The Frostysplit Incident

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“Bollocks!” P. Gander screamed at the top of his lungs. “I’ve heard better excuses from death row inmates during their last meal! Where is OddLuck? Where is that jaded mule? I’ll gnaw her ear off for this, I swear! I don’t pay you to stand around and stare! Tell me, where is she!”

It was more than evident how angry P. Gander was. He was stomping around Frostysplit Cavern, one of the highest rated skating rink and ice cream parlors in all of Equestria (or so according to him and his ogling mother), brandishing a charred hunk of meat in employees’ faces, yelling, “I will make her regret burning my lunch the same way I made that unicorn regret freezing my steak when I went to Canterlot for a visit!”

Patrons heard his yelling and stood from their seats to get a better look at whoever was disturbing their lunch, while some Employees’ suddenly became too keen to their work to provide their boss with any unneeded attention.

“Geronimo!” he continued, referring to his friend and longtime colleague, a giraffe from Halfneckistan. “Get over here! I demand answers!”

Geronimo looked up from the register he was so keen on staring at while P. Gander was having another one of his fits. He deadpanned at the malicious griffon with a trying-to-be-placid expression on his face. Hiding a sigh, he walked out from behind the counter and over to the crocky middle-aged bird.

“Yes, Mr. Gander?” he said, trying his best to sound pleasant and suckupish―the way a good giraffe should sound in the case of their feathered friend being a total asshole. Griffons are normally tall, and P. Gander, being the chalky griffon that he is, puts him just above the average height; although he still had to look up to stare the giraffe in the face.

“Where is OddLuck?” he said in a frightening tone.

Geronimo shook his head. “I dunno.”

“Bollocks! I looked at the employee roster, she’s here today and on grill duty. I went back there to find her, and she wasn't there. Where is she?”

Geronimo just shrugged, thinking that perhaps silence would be a valid option.

“If you do not tell me where she is right now, I’ll dock everyone’s pay! And you know how much I love docking! I have the boat to prove it! I’ll gather everyone’s paychecks, throw them onto the ship, set it ablaze, and watch it float out into the ocean while I roll in laughter from the shoreline!”

That was not a bluff. In fact, he had done it multiple times before and has lost numerous boats in the process.

The thought of no one getting paid―if you could consider it pay―sent a chill down Geronimo’s vertebrae. It was up to him to be his employees’ savior, as he was the supervisor and therefore felt responsible for sticking his neck out for them.

“Puh-please, Mr. Gander,” he spoke quickly. “There’s no need for that, I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. She could be off to the restroom for all we know! Maybe if you give it a few minutes she will turn up.”

P. Gander glared at him with daggers, causing Geronimo to shrivel back a bit. “Why in the world would she go off and take a squat off the perch at this time―when we are at our most busiest hour! You really expect to get away with such a campfire story as, ‘She went to the bathroom?’ Tell me, Geronimo, why did you put her on grill duty? Of all things, you put her on the grill? Patties belong on the grill, not mares!”

“Wuh-well, you see―well, she was doing such a good job as janitor that I thought it would only be right to put her in a more proper position to work.” He didn’t realize that he was dripping in sweat. Perhaps it was because P. Gander kept refusing to turn on the A/C, perhaps it was because how nervous he was. He wouldn’t be able to tell which. “I thought you knew she was promoted, you even signed the papers!”

“Geronimo, how long have you worked here for?”

“About nine years, Mr. Gander.”

“And you still aren’t aware that I don’t actually read those proposals unless they interest me? I merely signed the document while my brain was on static! Don’t you remember the last time she worked the grill? The fire department took some of the fire with them and spread it to the other businesses as if they were doing Hearth’s Warming carols! Now I have to go and throttle her throat!”

She saw it all unfolding from the window of the two-way doors. All the employees were gathered around her, throwing nervous glances between her and the cantankerous middle-aged bird. None dared offer her up. They all enjoyed having her around, and her being treated as another one of P. Gander’s pinions bothered them very much.

I step off to go to the bathroom and come back to this? she thought. Can I ever catch a break?

She took a moment to think about it. In the past she had been able to wiggle her way out of P. Gander’s mangy black talons when the situation seemed absolutely hopeless, mainly because she had coworkers and supervisors like Geronimo to back her up. But as she watched from the window, a feeling so worrisome slowly crept its way into her stomach.

There was no getting out of this.

P. Gander was having one of his fits again and she was to blame. When P. Gander was angry, he tended to be that way until the odds turned to his favor.

If I must…

Letting out a distressed sigh and mustering some courage, she pushed the two-way door open.

Her hooves rubbed against the purple plush carpet as she made her slow trek towards the griffon. His white feathers jumped out from the dim lighting of the parlor’s interior, in some ways glowing. Her mind just seemed to focus on the glowing white blob she was heading towards, not paying attention to the patrons eyeing her curiously as she passed their tables.

“On the count of three I’m going to march right into my office come out with the new paper shredder I ordered, and I will make sure your contracts are torn to shreds right in front of your face! One, two―”

“You needed to see me, sir?”

P. Gander swiveled his body around and fixed her with that same piercing gaze he used on his colleague. A smug smile stretched across his beak.

A cold chill ran down OddLuck’s spine, and an odd feeling began to rise in her stomach.

“To my office,” he said. “Now.”

It was the change in tone that scared her the most. One minute he was running around yelling bloody murder, the next it was like having tea with grandma, who, by the way, was dead.

“Yes… sir.” she managed to choke out nervously.

She turned towards the door at the back of the parlor and began her thousand feet trek, the state-of-the-art stick-up-arse boss following in from behind. Never in her life had she wanted something to be over with so quickly.

As she walked she made subtle glances around the parlor. Employees pretending to do their work were giving her solemn looks, as were the many diners who took pity on the poor mare only trying to do her job.

The walk felt like forever.

Every step, every eye bored into her.

She was glad to finally reach the door.

Despite the diarrhea-like explosivity that P. Gander was known for displaying to others in the past, he was extremely formal, being the tactical business griffon that he is. The walls of his office were painted dark velvet, the pictures adorning it showing many of the outstanding achievements throughout his career―he even had a plaque from the mayor!―which he kept behind his desk at the precise level where anyone in his attendance can perfectly view it just above his head.

In the center of the white ceiling hung a fan, which was always kept at the lowest setting. When a pony would walk into the office, if they turned to their right, they would see a waiting area with a stack of vintage magazines. P. Gander was a collector of the sort. Why, he was so formal that he always kept a stack of kitty calendars handy and decorated along with the multiple awards and an autographed Hillary Dove poster.

On the other side of the room was none other than that wretched pheasant’s desk. It was remarkably clean save for a few knick-knacks, a black leather blotter, a tray filled with copious hours of paperwork, a swivel chair right behind said desk, and a nameplate just at the edge (Peregrin Gander).

All this described, it was mind-boggling to see, right beneath the ceiling fan, directly in front of his desk, in the very center of the office, that rickety-splintery not-safe-for-work barstool.

Immediately a sense of dread went through OddLuck as she laid her eyes on it. She once asked Mr. Gander about the barstool and had gotten a stern scolding from him. She didn’t know what she did wrong, but nonetheless, she had gone right back to mopping, feeling uncomfortable as his golden irises bored their way into the back of her head.

She lowered her head and breathed a huge sigh. Realizing that she couldn’t turn her back now and leave, she walked straight over to the rickety-splintery, not-safe-for-work barstool and sat down, feeling the gentle breeze of the ceiling fan from above―a soothing irony for the situation.

Almost at the exact moment, she plopped her flank onto the stressed surface, P. Gander walked into the room, slammed the door behind him, marched right over to his desk, and sat down into his swivel chair. He leaned back in a relaxing slouch and spun around with a childlike smile on his face.

“Ooh, OddLuck,” he said in a gleeful tone. “Do you know what today is?”

OddLuck sat up straight and looked around the room, doing the best she could not to make eye contact with the griffon. “Umm…” she said. “Tuesday.”

The griffon roared with laughter. “No, you dunce! Today is a great day! I woke up this morning―at the crack of four―and said to myself, ‘Why, this day is going to be remarkable.’ And I daresay that I wholeheartedly agree with myself! Don’t you agree, dearest OddLuck? Isn’t this day just splendid?”

She nervously forced a smile. “Ye-yes… splendid. You’re right. It is.”

“Of course I’m right, you dunce,” he remarked. “I just told you I was, after all. But do you know why today is so great?”

OddLuck shook her head.

“Because I get to spend this one moment with you. The one moment I have been anticipating since I first hired you.” He leaned over his desk staring at OddLuck, forcing her to make eye contact. “But first, have I ever told the story about how I founded Frostysplit Cavern?”

“Umm…” Nine times in total. Five times in the past two weeks. “No.”

“Ah, well I’ll spare you the long version because you don’t deserve such a luxury.” He cleared his throat and stared at her solemnly. “The story begins with a young―and quite handsome I might add―Gander, barely at the ripe age of fifteen years young.

“Growing up in Griffonstone was awful. Absolutely awful. You think your life is bad? Try living off stale biscuits for a week! I hate biscuits. I truly hate them. Have you ever had a biscuit before? I don’t know how anyone could eat them, it’s nothing but tough bread―anyways, I’m getting off track.

“At that time border patrol wasn’t as keen as it is today. Although getting into Equestria was still difficult and quite dangerous. Fortunately, my father knew a smuggler and one thing led to another and they concluded that if I were to fulfill the family legacy of finding success, I would need to be moved into this lustrous country.”

At this point, he had gotten out of his swivel chair and began prancing around the room. OddLuck did her best not to look at him while he moved around her so much.

“The smuggler knew a simple path around three mountains. Mount Fangtooth, Mount Elephantine, and Mount Don’t Jump You Will Die. We eventually stopped in Manehattan where he dropped me off.

“By ‘drop me off’ I mean he left me by a fence post like a dog waiting for his owner to come out of the store.”

He stopped in front of one of the kitty calendars he kept on the wall, staring at the kitten playing with a ball of yarn, reading the word Hope! at the bottom left corner. He felt himself on the verge of crying, and he did the best he could to hide it.

Ah screw it! Big cocks cry too! He cried into the kitty calendar.

“Even those with awesome power have buried pain deep within them, OddLuck,” he continued, turning to her and wiping away a tear. OddLuck could feel herself wanting to cry―not for the story, but for other reasons she couldn’t quite put her hoof on.

He walked back behind his desk and continued his story. “I was forced to ravage the streets of Manehattan at that point. Every grime I got under my claws was just a reminder of how much of a failure I was. Eventually, though, an antique store owner took pity on me. He took me in, fed me, gave me a job, and showed me how to run my own business. He also had this strange obsession with cats. I guess some of that rubbed off on me.

“Then, at the age of twenty-one years young, I did it: I bought a small corner shack and opened an ice cream parlor. I had finally done it! I had followed my passion and opened my own place for my own self! Nopony could tell me what to do or how I had to do it, nopony told me how much money I had to charge or who to give it to. It was all mine to decide how. To me, that was the Equestrian Dream, OddLuck.”

At this point, the griffon didn’t realize that he was, in fact, giving the long version of the story, which only pressured OddLuck more into wanting him to get to the point much quicker so that they could move on to the inevitable.

“Business was slow at first. At the time, every place of business was a competitor with Frosty Shack. But I knew my place in the world and I would not be laid to rest until I had succeeded! It happened to be a sheer work of odd luck that a middle school was nearby. After three o’clock, all the children and sometimes their parents would come to old―or young in this case―and quite handsome I might add again―Mr. Gander’s palace of joy. That was what kept me in business. But I soon realized I couldn’t keep it up forever as summer vacation was nearing, and ponies much preferred the more well-presented ice cream parlor Dicky’s Icey Creamies, which was no more than a block further.

“Then it happened―The Equestrian Stock Market crash―oh I love how it just rolls right off the tongue! The Equestrian Stock Market crash, The Equestrian Stock Market crash, The Equestrian Stock Market crash! Now you say it, OddLuck!”

“The Equestrian Stock Market Crash…” she muttered.

“Louder!”

“The Equestrian Stock Market crash!” She didn’t stop herself from doing it, but she did it―she was practically weeping at her own funeral. She managed to scream it at the top of her lungs. She didn’t realize how much anxiety she was holding in at that moment.

But P. Gander wasn’t fazed by it. In fact, he looked enthused. “Yes, OddLuck! Spout it out! Tell the entire world! Others suffered so I could find success! It was a dream come true. Do you know why? Because the banks failed! Every place of business in the area had their own accounts set up. I didn’t! I kept every last morsel I earned safeguarded in a chest I hid under my bed! For the first time ever, I had a chance at success, and I took it!”

He leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, a relaxed look on his face, bathing in his own glory. “For the first time in my life, I felt like a god. Cut open a vein and all that flowed was ichor. Just about every place of business on the block closed up―all except one, of course. A bar across the street called the Forgetful Filly. Me and the owner are friends now and occasionally I’ll let him or his customers come over and use the bathroom.

“Eventually comes the end of the story. There was a fire, Frostysplit Shack burned down, and I had to completely rebuild. The owner of the Forgetful Filly helped by sending over a few supplies, and I had accumulated enough wealth to build the Frostysplit Cavern you see today. I added a skating rink and a nice, hot pink neon sign out front.”

He sat up straight, putting on his best business-like demeanor. “Do you know why I told you this story, OddLuck?”

Because you feel the need to bathe in your own glory? she thought.

“I…” she began, but when she decided she had nothing to say she shook her head in the negative.

“Because OddLuck, I care. I was you once. Young. Innocent. Vulnerable to the world around me, letting it take advantage of my every move like a puppet on a string. Because I care.”

Because I care. That sentence echoed through her head. Because I care. If you really cared, Mr. Gander, you would stop paying me minimum wage and stop yelling at me every time I have one little slip-up.

P. Gander inhaled the fresh air of the office. Cinnamon. Just like how his father’s funeral smelled. Refreshing. “Which is why I’m more than ecstatic to teach you this little lesson in business!”

He took out the charred hunk of meat and set it onto the desk, pointing at it with an extended talon. “When I asked for lunch, I didn’t expect to be given this. What do you think this is?”

She stared at it nervously for a moment, not sure how to respond. “Lah―l-lunch?”

“Lah―lunch?” P. Gander mocked. “Choo-choo! You hear that? It’s the Stupid Express on its way to pick you up from the station! And guess what? The conductor wants his coal back!” He picked up the patty and banged it against the hardwood. “Listen to it! It’s harder than a horny brick! It’s darker than my preference in the other gender! It’s a newfound element much rarer than diamond! Do you see where I’m getting at, OddLuck? Do you!”

She didn’t say anything. Her only option was to wait for the outcome.

“Aren’t you going to say something? Do I have you in the corner with a dunce cap? Are you so incompetent that you can’t seem to realize the impact of the situation you’re in?”

By now his words were hitting her, and they hit every last nerve in her body. Before she realized it, she was tearing up.

“I should have fired you long before I hired you―nay! I should have never hired you in the first place. I should have known that hiring a unicorn was bad for business considering the current ties between our countries, let alone a unicorn mare. I should have known better than to associate myself with the enemy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

She didn’t realize what she was doing until it was too late. One minute she was sitting on the rickety-splintery not-safe-for-work barstool, and the next she was standing, staring at what she assumed to be her now former boss with tears streaming down her face.

“Yes, yes! Yell at me! Throw things at my face! Hit me! It gives me all the more reason to fire you!”

She couldn’t. She just couldn’t help herself… “I have nothing to do with the war! In fact, I want nothing to do with it! I want nothing to do with you! You’re nothing but a―but a―but a BULLY!”

Silence.

Laughter.

P. Gander wiped a tear away. “Oh, I must thank you dear, sweet OddLuck. I haven’t laughed like that since I was a child and I saw my grandmother blow out her ninety birthday candles then proceeded to eat the cake with her face. That was a lovely little fit you had. Lovely indeed! It’s a shame that I must be letting you go if it means I’ll be giving up on entertainment value such as this. But hopefully, there will be a day when we can make amends and we’ll be quite the business colleagues.”

OddLuck didn’t say anything for almost a minute. P. Gander didn’t say anything for almost a minute. She stared at him with disdain on her face. He stared at her with eyes full of enthusiasm. He knew he was in power, and that was what ticked her off.

Huffing out some air, and trying to settle herself down a bit so the situation wouldn’t escalate any further, she turned around and walked over to the door.

She stopped.

The seconds clung together as P. Gander raised a brow in suspicion. “Well, if you have something to say, spit it out. I don’t have all day. There is some resignation paperwork I need to go through.”

She spun around to face him, her face reddened with anger. Before either of them could catch on, OddLuck had lifted the rickety-splintery not-safe-for-work barstool into a green aura of magic―and smashed it to pieces.

P. Gander’s pupils shrank back, his wings stuck out in a surprised gesture, his feathers stood on end. “What…” he said. “What did you just―you incompetent mare! I’ll have your head for this!”

“Fuck you!”

The griffon tried getting out of his chair, possibly to make an attempt to restrain her. OddLuck took several chunks of the broken stool and threw them at him. P. Gander yelled and threw his talons up to protect his face. This gave her the time she needed to stomp out of his office and into the dining area.

“Don’t you go anywhere, I’m not done with you!”

She didn’t listen. The only thing she knew about what was going on was what she saw in front of her: the exit. Her freedom.

Patrons were standing up now to see who was disturbing their lunch. A child’s birthday party came to a complete halt when both the parents and children stared at the deranged griffon in shock as he let off a string of curses.

“If you go out those doors I’ll report you to the police for vandalism, and you’ll never set hoof in Frostysplit Cavern ever again!”

Worked for her.

Opening one of the doors with her telekinesis, she turned around and stared at the flustered griffon, who had stopped making his way toward her, now instead giving her a daring gaze.

“Go to Tartarus, you pheasant!” she yelled. Then, taking a brief second to reflect on her time spent at Frostysplit Cavern, she realized that there was nothing for her to reflect on.

She slammed the door, the windows shaking in their frames upon the violent impact. Outside OddLuck flipped a trashcan over in frustration. She proceeded to kick it repeatedly, the hot tears still streaming down her face. She didn’t stop to take heed of the surprised stares she was getting from passersby, but she did stop when she realized she didn’t have a reason to be angry anymore.

She slouched down against the curb, finally noticing that she had been crying the entire time. She didn’t realize she had pent up so much frustration over the course of seven months.

She was getting worse.

Gathering as much willpower as she could muster to walk, she crossed the street towards the Forgetful Filly.

The Divine Epidemic

Chapter I - Heading Nowhere...

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Part I
Heading Nowhere and with Doubt

This is not the beginning of OddLuck’s story.

As much as it pains me to say, it is not. OddLuck's misery began far before the Frostysplit incident, I would say even further then that. It is to my credit that I am responsible for where her life is at the moment. Being the immortal god that I am, I was awestruck to learn that the nature of the sapient pony is still quite unpredictable. I am the cause of all of her anxiety, and I have to live with that.

But, being the immortal god that I am, I must grit my teeth together and fight this mental oppression. In the case of the gods, when we are depressed, we sit next to the Foutain of the Sufferless and meditaite. In the case of a pony, they take to a bottle.

The Forgetful Filly
(please use the restroom across the street)

OddLuck walked into the Forgetful Filly. The chime of the bell above the doorway filled the empty bar. It was only three in the afternoon, and there were plenty of better bars to drink at at this time of day. To OddLuck, though, it wasn’t about the quality―it was about how quickly she could get shitfaced until all her problems were solved.

The bar wasn’t exactly worthy of a five star review. Each time she stepped on the hardwood floor, it would reply with a loud creaking that bounced off the walls. Dustmotes filled the air where a tuberculosis patient would have to sit in the smoking section just to get some fresh air. The lighting was dim, but somehow it managed to be bright enough for her to easily perceive everything in front of her. There was a chair, there was a table―oh look at that, there was another chair. Ouch.

Even though she wouldn’t host her cute-sera here, the actual bar itself was its saving grace. Aside from a few dents in the counter, some chipped edges, and the occasional knife hole, the counter was clean of any stains or residue that might have been left behind in the past, polished to the point of reflection. Behind the counter were shelves full of mead, beer, wine, gin―all the yummy forgetty stuff.

An aging albino minotaur stood behind said counter scrubbing the inside of a tankard with a dirty rag, as bartenders are known to do. He looked over at OddLuck with spectacles that made his eyes as big as snowballs. He muttered a greeting, “Hello!”

Okay, he yelled a greeting.

There was a row of rickety-splintery barstools lining the counter. For a moment she was reminded of Frostysplit Cavern, but she brushed it off quickly and sat in front of the minotaur. He didn’t look up from his work; he was solely focused on dirtying the mug with this rag he found in the bathroom sink sitting in a damp pool of blood. OddLuck was the first to break the silence between them.

“How are you today?” she asked.

“Top o’ the mornin to ya, ma’am!” the minotaur bellowed. OddLuck shriveled back in response to his booming voice. “How may I help ya?”

“Uhh… can I get a glass of Amnesia Fire, please?” she asked, raising a hoof to one of her ears to try and pop it.

“What?”

“Amnesia Fire.”

“You want a what?”

“I said I want a bottle of Amnesia Fire.”

“What?”

OddLuck said nothing for a moment.

“What?”

“What?” OddLuck said in response.

“Well why didn’t ya just say so?” he replied, reaching under the counter. With a grunt, he brought out a black bottle and wine glass and set them in front of OddLuck. He was about to let his hand free of the bottle, but he stopped for a moment and gave her a piercing look. “Should I leave the bottle with ya, or are ya gonna eat up whatever more of me time I have left?”

She nodded a bit too fast. She hoped he didn’t see that.

“I’ll leave the bottle with ya young dame.” he said, using the bloody rag to apply pressure to an oozing wound on his thigh. OddLuck suddenly became infatuated with a dust bunny next to her stool.

“Now can I get ya anything ta eat?” he continued. “D’ya need to see the menu?”

“What are your specials?”

“Well, I make’sa mean Fruit Punch Salad.”

OddLuck’s ears twitched in interest. “Fruit Punch Salad? What’s that? Is it like normal fruit salad?”

The minotaur nodded. “I go in the kitchen, make ya a fruit salad that’ll make yor nan jealous, then I come back and punch ya in the gob. Ya get the salad as an apology.”

OddLuck smirked and looked down at the bottle of Amnesia Fire. “Whatever works, I guess,” she said. “Yeah, go ahead and make it.”

“Okay, I’m going into the kitchen to make ya up some grub. Just to warn ye, if you plan on stealing from me register, I keep all me money in me coin sack. Slags beware, I ain’t wantin’ to get the time tonight.”

With that, he departed from behind the counter and exited through a door supposedly leading into the kitchen.

She popped the cork off the bottle with her magic, but rather than pouring the juicy liquid into the glass, which was covered in smudges of all sorts, she took a big swig from the bottle. It had a spicy taste, but that spiciness gave her throat the sort of warmth she longed for. When she finally pulled away, she coughed.

She hadn’t had wine since the picnic.

Across from OddLuck, sat the very same OddLuck. Only this one was much happier, and brandishing an ice-cold cup of foaming cider in her magical grasp. Her green coat was very well-groomed, and her blue curly mane was so carefully curved, a distinct quality that outclassed the real OddLuck’s disheveled mane. If one were to look under the counter, they would probably find the blue four-leaf clover cutie mark smack-dab on the side of her flank, probably the only thing left unchanged on either of them. After all, the pony who wore their mark was the same pony no matter how different they were some time ago.

She wrapped a hoof around the bottle and raised it in salute, her reflection doing the same. “Cheers!” she exclaimed ceremoniously to the entire room and took another swig.

OddLuck slammed the bottle down against the countertop and stared back at ToughLuck with a sly smirk. “Hello…” she continued. “How are you today?”

HotLuck blinked. “I’m good too, thank you!” OddLuck saw that HotBuck was growing impatient when her brows furrowed into a frown.

“What?” said the real OddLuck. “Do I have something in my mane? Or did I not brush my teeth?” Suddenly, she gasped, and her eyes widened. “Now that I think about it, I didn’t take a shower this morning!”

OtherLuck kept glaring at her.

“Look, I came here to find a good time. Is that too much for a young mare to ask?”

Slamming the cup of cider down against the counter, PotLuck’s brows furrowed down into a much more penetrating frown.

"Well aren't you a lovely one to talk to."

NotLuck continued to stare.

OddLuck couldn’t tell if that mare was glaring at her, or just frowning like her mother would when she did something bad. Either way, it didn’t matter. She was staring.

And staring…

And staring.

And that bothered OddLuck.

“Well, fine! I guess I’ll tell you.”

OddLuck sighed and picked the bottle of Amnesia Fire back up, concentrating on the liquid inside the black, transparent bottle. She stared at that liquid, twirling and watching it slosh around like a pony of ancient legend separating the sea. Like little waves crashing onto a shoreline. Those waves tempted OddLuck, calling her to grab onto them, see how they work, see how they fall and she heard them. OddLuck heard them, her magic worming its way into the bottle. Carefully, she extracted it in a thin line and twirled it some more, wondering how aged wine is able to become so perfect after so many years of collecting dust.

“I lost my job today.” she finally said. “It wasn’t much of a job―I mean, it was a lot like a job, it just wasn’t a job that I liked all that much. I mean, well... I hated it there. My boss had a few loose feathers and blamed me for a lot of stuff I had nothing to do with.”

LazyDuck’s expression loosened a bit, and OddLuck relaxed her body as she began to lose herself in the conversation.

“I barely had that job for however many months, and I regretted it every single day I had to work. It seemed like each day was a cycle: mop the floors, get yelled at; restock the ice cream, get yelled at; polish the ice in the skating rink―you get the picture. Heck, I think if I stayed another month I would have gotten used to it. I might even have gotten on that crooked bird’s good side for once as well. I’m not going to lie, he had a lot of good sides, but most of them seemed to be revealed at my expense. Heh, to think, at first, I thought of him as my little canary in a coal mine.”

GoodLuck stared at OddLuck.

OddLuck stared back at her reflection.

“Well,” she continued. “It’s my life, not yours―I mean, it could have been yours. It doesn’t have to be yours even, not if you let it. I mean, well…”

She stopped for a moment, taking another look at the bottle.

"It could be yours. I don't know. I mean, my roommate is kind of on the edge of crazy, and I'm on the verge of getting kicked out of my apartment, but I can't control that. I can try―I can get another job. It's easy… I believe."

She picked up the black bottle with a shy smile and stared at it. "If only it was that easy," she muttered to herself.

A single tear ran down her cheek as reality dawned on her.

“What… what am I doing? I’m… I’m talking to my reflection. I should be seeing a therapist. I mean―I probably would be if my checkbook allowed it. Hey I might even be able to pay all my bills on time if my checkbook allowed it!”

The tears had congregated beneath her eyes in herds, dripping from her cheeks and falling onto the counter.

“I don’t know what I’m doing with my life! I don’t have a job, I can’t go back to school, my roommate thinks she was banished into the future by Starswirl the Fucking Bearded―as if that’s a lame-ass excuse as to why she can’t pay her half of the damn bills! Why can’t he be here!”

She couldn’t compose herself. Upon that last sentence, her head dropped against the counter in defeat. Tears continued to roll down her face at a ceaseless pace. She stared at the deathly black bottle.

With an inhale, she said, “I think I’m finally going to take care of it tonight.”

She sat back up and looked back towards SodMuck, its brows no longer furrowed into a frown, but now raised in concern. OddLuck just smirked and picked the bottle up with her magic.

“Heh, funny, I can’t even remember why I came here in the first place,” she said, finishing the bottle off.

Slamming it back against the counter, she conjured up a few bits and dropped them on the counter into a small pile. Enough for the Amnesia Fire, enough to cover however much the Fruit Punch Salad might cost, and enough for an apology on leaving when the kind minotaur had offered to punch her in the face.

“I should probably get out of her before he comes back.” she said. She turned in her rickety-splintery barstool and plopped down on the hardwood floor, a loud creak filling the room. As she went through the exit, she listened closely for the weak chime of the bell. Soft, much like the punch from the kind minotaur would have been like. Beautiful, much like the metal gauntlet he was brandishing―okay, let’s get out of here.

____________________

What the fuck is happening to you OddLuck? What the heck happened back there? Why did you lose it like that—it’s all okay because you feel better now that you have something yummy in your belly―no, it’s not going to last that long; happiness is best enjoyed in quarters. You’re miserable. This moment your living right now will not exist the next day. But that’s fine, because you’re happy right now, nothing can stop that―throw that wretched pheasant into a flaming pit! No that won’t help anything. Yes, it will. No, it won’t. Yes. No. Yes. No. Your anxiety is getting to you, OddLuck. You need to get your life together or give up now. Okay, that sounds easy―no it’s not. Yes―no―yes―no―I’ll try my best, it’s a slow process―you’ll never get better but you’ll never get anything but better, stop this insanity. Don’t you remember, you forgot what happened―what happened?―oh that, okay―it must be better if they say it gets better―but what if it doesn’t―it has to, why shouldn’t it?

That reality, that worry of the future burdened OddLuck's head with a weight she wished not to carry, as she walked into the fire known as Neighpalm St.

“Help! Help! My baby is on fire!” Screamed one mare.

“The pigeons are armed with crossbows! Take cover!” A homeless griffon exclaimed, trying to take refuge in his box labeled, “↑ ǝpᴉs sᴉɥ┴”.

“The orphanage! The orphanage is burning! The children have committed the blood sacrifice! He returns with grace!”

Neighpalm St. was a scene of chaos far more convincing than any war. Overturned crates, trash lining the curves, plumes of toxic gases shooting from chimneys, homeless sitting against walls with bottles in paperbacks, graffiti on this wall, the blood of an earlier crime on that wall, a lonely mare in the middle of the street after getting fired from work, and OddLuck, who is having a bad day, some would say.

It was impossible to believe―dreadful to believe―absolutely, positively dreadful to believe that OddLuck has already lived in this city for seven months. Seven months. Seven months―where did the time go? Every day it’s get up before noon, go to work, get off of work, then try to go to sleep by twelve in the morning but procrastinate and not go to bed until four in the morning. The next day, promise yourself that you will do better in the future, that the future is eventually, but not be bothered to do anything until then because it’s better to wait for things to get better.

This is how OddLuck has been living her life for the last seven months.

For the last seven months, this is how OddLuck has lived.

This is how she has lived for seven months.

In repetition.

What happened at the university no longer mattered to her. What mattered now was being jobless. She barely had enough money to pay the bills, and her roommate was completely bonkers. Not bonkers as in “P. Gander bonkers” but quite bonkers for an ex-homeless mare who thinks she was plucked straight from medieval times.

Why, it almost seemed as if OddLuck’s life was leading somewhere―knee-deep in a puddle of nowhere.

In truth, OddLuck wouldn’t know where her life was heading even if it hit her in the head.

And it did.

⃣k ⃣oc|pqɒoЯ

This is what OddLuck saw in her confused daze as she laid against the cold, hard ground of Neighpalm St., trying to figure out what the heck happened and how she got to this point. Eventually, her vision cleared and she was able to see what it was that hung in the sky before her.

Roadblock

Head still pounding, she stared up at the sign, trying to figure out where it came from. A construction worker, exhaustion plain on his face, saw the mare lying on the ground and ran over to help her up.

“Why is there a Roadblock on Neighpalm Street?” OddLuck asked, rubbing her temples as she tried to come out of her sudden stupor.

“The Mayor has closed off all the streets so that his wife can deliver her babies safely along the way to the hospital.”

“The Mayor’s wife is pregnant?”

“I thought the same thing at first. Take a look for yourself.”

Head still pounding, she looked past the roadblock sign and cupped a hoof over her eyes to shadow them from the sun blocking her view. Sure enough, in the middle of the intersection, blocking any and all traffic from getting through, was the mayor attempting to push a cart full of dozens of babies uphill.

His wife was watching from inside the cart. Growing impatient, she got out and pushed alongside him. “Push honey, push!” the Mayor screamed.

The sheer weight of the cart, not to mention the addition of the dozen babies inside, all well fed, made it extremely difficult to budge uphill. She screamed in agony as her muscles began to ripple. “Go to Tartarus!” she yelled. “My mother was right about you! We’ll never win the Amazing Baby Race at this point!”

“We can do it, honey! Think of the babies! We’ll never make a statement on the importance of fertility if we don’t deliver them on time to the hospital. These babies will be pregnant one day then die the next―that’s how life is!”

OddLuck looked towards the commotion.

Then, she looked at the crossing guard.

With a few blinks, she looked back at the commotion, then back at the guard before looking back at the commotion which flicked her gaze towards the roadblock sign before looking at the crossing guard with a stern smile and said, "Well, good luck with that."

She took a detour route this time. Since every street in her vicinity was blocked off from the race, she had to take the subway. She walked down the stairs leading underground, paid the toll, and boarded one of the trains leading to the Broncs, a district in Manehatten made for housing and apartments.

Ignoring how crowded the train was and the mare only a foot shorter than OddLuck sticking her smelly mane in her face, OddLuck made it to her district in one piece. She left the subway and walked down the littered streets.

A homeless zebra gypsy had a blanket set out on the sidewalk, sporting the many peace pipes and other trinkets he was selling to make his way in the world. He scratched his dirty cheek with a hoof and saw OddLuck walking down the street. Shooting up from the blanket, he began yelling, “Mare, young mare, beware! The spirits clearly haunt you, buy soul cleanser before you’re due!”

She kept on walking, to the persistent shout of the zebra. “Young mare, young mare, beware!” he kept yelling. “Buy my wares unless you wish to take the dare! Listen to what I saith, I foresee in your future a leap of faith!”

Eventually, she made it to her apartment complex. Walking through the gate and ignoring the group of loitering griffons jeering at her, she made her way up to the apartment and conjured her keys with a snap of her horn. Making sure they were really her apartment keys and not the dorm room keys she forgot to return when she left university, she unlocked the door. She opened the door and…

“Loosey, you left the lights on!”

She walked in but was nearly tripped by something soft. She looked down and saw that it was a pillow. Looking around the room, she could see that a whole array of them were strewn across the floor. “And you made a mess!”

“You said it’s fine so long as I clean up,” came a casual voice from a pillow fort on the other side of the room, a polka-dot blanket covering the entrance. The kitchen table was missing, so she assumed it was serving as some sort of roof.

She heard a noise going on to her right and she turned to inspect it. “And you left the TV on! I told you to turn it off when you’re not watching it!”

Walking behind the couch, which was sitting approximately six feet from the TV, she grasped one of the knobs in her green magic, and the black-and-white image of Princess Twilight Sparkle giving her speech at the Ceremony of Friendship went black.

“Is everything good, young one?”

Young one! “Just because I’m slightly younger than you doesn’t give you the right to call me ‘young one’, you know.”

The polka-dot blanket ruffled for a moment and out popped the head of a plum coated mare with a short, but naturally curly, beige mane. Giving OddLuck a contemptuous stare, she said, “Whose saber got stuck up your arse for you to be acting this way?”

“My boss’s. What are you doing?”

“Thought I’d build a nice fort and have a little reading session.”

“You could have at least cleaned up a little.”

“I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”

OddLuck rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

Living in an apartment where the kitchen and living room are merged together made for some easy maneuverability. OddLuck galloped from the couch into the kitchen, where she began searching the medicine cabinet.

“You looking for something?”

“Sleep medicine. I really want to go to bed right now.”

“It’s hardly noon.”

“So what’s stopping me?”

Loosestrife shrugged. “The willingness to keep in good health? What’s wrong with you today? You’re never this worked up!”

“Nothing, Loosey.”

“OddLuck, I―”

“Nothing, Loosey. Leave it at that.”

OddLuck continued to rummage through the medicine cabinet looking for something, come on, anything that’ll make her the least bit drowsy. She must have searched the entire medicine cabinet before she heard a cough.

Breaking her attention away from the bottles and labels, she looked over at Loosestrife, who had completely left the fort and was standing in the kitchen with her, looking her up and down curiously.

“Want to see the inside of the fort?”

OddLuck stared at Loosestrife for a beat. She could do that, or she could go back to searching for the yummy practice-your-death-for-eight-hours-a-night pills. After all that’s happened today, she only wanted to go to bed. Was that too much to ask for? OddLuck figured she deserved as much.

But it would probably please Loosey. That would satisfy her. It was enough reason for OddLuck to sigh and go, “Okay, let’s see.”

With a childlike giggle, Loosestrife ran back around to the entrance and yelled, “Come on! You’re going to love this!”

The fort intersected the area between the living room and the kitchen, where it took up most of the space. And it’s blocking the fridge, really, Loosey! Have you no respect? OddLuck thought. She had to pad around it, each step feeling like a slow trek through mud.

She reached around the front to find the polka-dot blanket covering the entrance. She tried rustling it open, but just as she was doing so, Loosestrife’s voice chirped from inside. “Na-uh uh, you have to say the password!”

With a frustrated sigh, “Loosey, I’m not in the mood to be playing games right now.”

“Password, OddLuck.”

“Loosey―”

“Paaaassword!”

With another frustrated sigh, “Unlimited Rice Pudding.”

“Well, that sounds like too much rice pudding, don’t you think?”

“Loosey!”

“Come on in.”

OddLuck threw the polka-dot blanket aside onto the floor, to the annoyance of Loosestrife, who looked at her for a moment then rolled her eyes. Then she said with a sly smile, “Welcome to Fort Recreation.”

She was huddled up in the center of the fort with a book in her forehooves and a lit candle next to it. The fort was simple but creative. It seems that Loosestrife had gathered all the pillows and cushions she could find in the apartment so that she could stack them on and around the kitchen table, where she laid a really large blanket on top to cover up the inside walls so no light would seep through any cracks. A small section of said blanket was tucked away beneath a pillow on the table to form the entrance.

It was a craftyness that was more cunning than what the average child would be able to comprehend upon building their first pillow fort. This, was most definitely, from what OddLuck has gathered of Loosestrife’s personal life, her first pillow fort―which was quite impressive for someone who probably just got bored sitting around the house all day.

“It’s nice,” OddLuck muttered.

“Why are you just standing there? Come on in!” said Loosestrife.

Not saying anything, OddLuck slowly, but deliberately, made her way inside. She took a good look at it and admired its craftyness, but since there wasn’t much to observe, she turned her attention to Loosestrife almost immediately.

“Well,” she said. “Don’t just stand there, sit somewhere.”

Standing next to Loosestrife, OddLuck plopped down onto her belly. She looked down at the open book in Loosestrife’s hooves. “Whatja reading there?”

“Oh, some adventure story by Plagueis the Wise.”

“Is it any good?”

Loosestrife shook her head. “Absolute garbage. The main character commits suicide halfway through the story, while her sidekick gets impaled by a spear before she can do anything interesting. The troll mythos is interesting, however… nonetheless, it’s still more interesting then any of that trash your time throws out.”

OddLuck groaned. “Not this again!”

“Well, excuse me for having a peculiar taste for fine literature! Last I checked all that’s ever published these days is teen trash about anxious fillies in high school and frisky vampires. Honestly, your generation has been dumbed down to the core.”

OddLuck rolled her eyes. “Says the pony who still thinks tomatoes are poisonous.”

“You try eating one for yourself and fighting off the irksome diarrhea that could only come from the plague!”

“You know, if you ever took the moment to actually try a tomato, you might find that you like it.”

“Put that thought back in its locker.”

“Just saying, they’re not actually that bad.”

“And I’m saying I’m not taking the risk of dying a horrible death.”

Seeing no way out of this due to experience with past arguments, OddLuck gave up with a shrug. “Suit yourself,” she said.

Fort Recreation was filled with silence for a heartbeat. Loosestrife took to scanning the pages of her book once again, but due to the company she had with her she didn’t feel as compelled to read it. OddLuck, trying to find something to do during this brief moment of silence, examined the far off wall, where a painting of a white vase full of a dozen white roses was hanged. She remembered that was only there to cover up a sizable hole she left with a hammer when she first moved in.

So, should I tell her? OddLuck thought. Should I tell her I’m all out of work, but that’s okay, because finding a new job in modern times is as easy as catching the plague a couple hundred years ago―no, it’s not? Should I tell her that it’s very possible I’m going to run out of money soon and she will be back on the streets? Should I tell her that, or should I keep it to myself and hope to find another job in time to pay the next bill?

She thought about it and she thought about it some more, and while she was too busy thinking about it, a sudden unrelated thought crossed her mind. In fact, it was a thought so unrelated that OddLuck swore it was only there so she could make conversation.

“So Loosey, what does your cutie mark mean?”

Loosestrife looked up from her book, confused, and looked at her flank. Smack-dab on the side of her flank was was a thorny purple flower of some kind entwined around a saber. OddLuck had always found the cutie mark to be intriguing, but it never occurred to her once in the five months they’ve known each other to ask her what it means.

“My cutie mark?” she mentally began picking at the question with a stick. “What about it?”

“Well, I’ve seen it a million times already, and I’ve never understood it. It just seems so… out of place compared to all the other cutie marks out there.”

Loosestrife raised a brow. “Oh, and yours is so normal as well?” she countered.

It was true. The blue four-leaf clover on OddLuck’s place was very out of place. She has in the past try to pinpoint what it could mean, but she got no clear answers. In fact, she’s had this cutie mark longer then her conscience mind. When inquiring to her parents about it one day after one of her friends got their cutie mark, they responded with, “You’ve had it since you were born.”

So, in a sense, OddLuck always looked to it as something that made her different. If it meant not ever finding out the meaning of the mark, then at least she could die knowing there was something unique about her.

“Yeah, well, I want to know about yours. What do you think it means?”

“Well, to understand that you have to understand what a loosestrife is. A loosestrife is a plant that is not easily tamed, OddLuck. To me, this mark―” she pointed to the entwined saber on her flank “―respresents unfailing offense. I do not give up that easily, OddLuck. When life has me down, I have to remember to force myself to bear my teeth and keep on going. Treat it as a game. You mess up once you have a bad time. However, you do a good job, you work hard, you have a good time. That’s how it is.”

OddLuck was still nodding along after Loosestrife had finished her little monologue. “Okay, but what does the mark mean?”

“I don’t know why I try to open up to you sometimes, honestly.”

“Because you love me.”

“Love you as much as much as a veterinarian loves putting down dogs.”

“Well that’s a dark way of looking at things.”

“Then turn on the lights.”

“But I like them turned off. It helps me sleep at night.”

“You really need to start living with the lights on, you know that?”

“And you need to jump back into the twenty-first century.”

“Okay, since you’re so keen on asking me about my mark, why don’t you tell me about yourself, Strange Clover?”

OddLuck scowled at her roommate, who was boasting a sly smile. “I told you I don’t like that name.”

“And you prefer to call me by some profound nickname instead of my birth-given name simply because, ‘It rolls off the tongue better.’ Quote unquote.”

She sighed, racking her brain for any possible answers she could give. In truth, she started demanding everyone to call her that back in middle school. No reason, she just liked the way it sounded. It could be, however, that…”

“All my life I’ve had this kind of… what I called odd luck. Ever since I was a filly, I’ve had this way of… taking a gamble at something, and I would come out either extremely fortunate or extremely misfortunate. Not knowing my talent was or what it would ever be, I guess I took to making up the meaning of my mark as I was going along. So, in a sense… OddLuck.”

She rolled over on her back and stared up at the ceiling―or more precisely, the bottom of the coffee table. Huh, she thought. Guess I didn't think of it that way until now.

For a long moment, she just lied there, staring. She wondered where it all went wrong and whether it was ever right. It just seems... that her life has come to a complete 'halt'.

Loosestrife stood up and reared her body back to stretch her limbs. "You know, if you want to get shitfaced at two in the afternoon, you don't have to find a dusty old bar with cheap wine, I can turn you into a real animal."

OddLuck waved her off. "Thanks, but no thanks."

Loosestrife shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Deciding there was nothing left to talk about, OddLuck stood back up, taking care to bump her head on the bottom of the table. "Well," she said. "I don't know about you, but this day has me beat. I think I'll try to sleep it off. Think you can clean up a little."

Loosestrife had walked to the other side of the room where the couch was and rested her head against the armrest. "Sure. And I'll do you a solid and fetch the chimney sweeper!"

"Keep the snarkiness up and you'll be what the chimney sweeper finds clogging up all the smoke in the morning."

"So scared. Sleep tight, Clover."

"I will, Loosey," OddLuck nodded, ignoring the mention of her real name. "I will."

Author's Notes:

Guh!

This chapter took so much work!

The original draft for this chapter was awful. Just awful. But, thanks to patience and Curify (bless him, just bless him), my amazing editor, I was able to bring this chapter to the quality state it's in now. And boy-howdy what a relief! I can finally move on to the story I've been anticipating to write since 2015!

And now that I've gotten to introducing the Slamjam characters, I can finally explain what all the fuss is about: The OC Slamjam was a contest in 2015 hosted by the (now deceased [not irl, don't worry]) Obselescence! The contest had you create an Original Character, where, by random selection, you would have to take someone else's Original Character to write the two of them in a scenario. It was a fun contest that went on for the duration of an entire summer.

Sadly, OddLuck didn't even make it past the first round. Due to real life problems, I procrastinated and submitted an unfinished draft. What resulted was probably one of the worst entries in the entire contest. But now, here we are, with a story I'm very excited to share with you.

Very special thanks to PresentPerfect letting me use Loosestrife! I'll make sure to take special care of her.

If you'd like to know more about her, read check out this doc! (Might help if you press ctrl F and enter the name of said character)

Bleh, time to start chapter three. I think you guys will be in for a real treat.

Chapter II - Nowhere

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The next morning OddLuck came out of her bedroom in a stupor. An irksome headache hammered at the back of her noggin, where she couldn’t decide if the nail being driven in was from oversleeping, the bottle of wine she had yesterday, or both. The pain was ever-growing, the throbbing banging against the back of her head like a baseball being struck by a bat that said, “Mondays Are Overkill.”

OddLuck groaned and rummaged the medicine cabinet for something that will ease her suffering, the kind that made special pains such as this go bye-bye. Hey, she would even take the cookie-cutter stuff at this point if it meant less of a nuance. That folktale satisfaction would have to wait a moment though because her brain screamed to life when she heard the sound of the black & white booming.

“More news on the attacks have yet to surface. As it stands, the University of Friendship is canceling its fall semester while repairs are being done…”

“Isn’t this old news?”

OddLuck walked from the kitchen to behind the couch where Loosestrife was laying. “Hmm?” Her roommate said without unhooking her eyes from the screen.

“I could have sworn this story was covered months ago. I mean, well, it did happen months ago. Why would they just now be covering it?”

“Beats me, could be new information.”

“But it’s the same information. The University canceled its fall semester months ago and has already been rebuilt. They’re speaking as if this just happened.”

“Maybe it’s a different university?”

“That can’t be. There’s only one University of Friendship—smackdab in Ponyville. But I suppose they’re making a mistake and mean the School of Friendship in one of the nearby counties. Maybe even the University of Friendship...”

Loosestrife shrugged. “Maybe.”

OddLuck walked back into the kitchen, over to her sole reason for starting each day: the coffee machine. “So, is the Ceremony of Friendship still happening?”

“Yeah. I haven’t watched it. Modern politics don’t interest me.”

OddLuck took out the filter basket and examined the soggy dregs mildewing in their little sack of refined joy. Dumping it out, she layered the basket with a new filter and filled it with a cup of her favorite grain (The good stuff, the kind that’s imported from Zebrica.). The rich aroma tackled her nostrils with lightspeed timing.

“Agree. I’ve never paid attention to any of that stuff. Too much bias to learn anything. I don’t even know about any of the controversies with Zebrica. I think it has something to do with bombs or whatever? I don’t know?” OddLuck continued, feeling the need to converse while in the process of her morning ritual.

“Griffons did something. Zebras did something. Equestria did something in response. It’s nothing but insistent playground bickering.”

“This is an interesting morning conversation.”

OddLuck could hear the eye roll. “You started it.”

“Fair enough.”

She slid the filter basket back in place. All that was left to do was fill up the rest of the joy in her life with water and watch the future caffeinated tummy aches drip, drip, drip until they formed a pool for her to swim in. Lighting up her horn, she focused on the handle of the coffee… the coffee…

“Pot.” she pushed out through clenched teeth. “Loosey, where’s the coffee pot?”

Loosestrife’s head perked up; a hole of a guilty look dug into her face. “O-oh yeah, that? Well, I might have —well, maybe I kind of—you see… I... broke it.”

OddLuck raised a brow so high her horn had its own expression. Inquisitive yet piercing, much like what it was about to do to her roommate’s stomach. “You… you… what?”

“I’m sorry, really! There I was cleaning, and there it was sitting, and there was the broom handle—which by the way you should probably get a new one, not nearly as flexible as I expected it to be—and then there it was laying in a thousand little, helpless pieces.”

“...What were you doing with the broom?”

“The point is the pot for your coffeemajinger is broken, and it was a mistake and please don’t banish me further into the future.”

OddLuck slumped her head down and sighed. “Sometimes I don’t know if you’re being serious.”

“Seriousness is just controlled insanity.”

“That’s just sanity, Loosey,” OddLuck said, walking back to her bedroom. “Now I have to go to some clammy thrift store and find a new pot. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!”

“Don’t tell me they don’t have sarcasm where you come from…”

Loosestrife looked at OddLuck inquisitively. “Sar chasm… kert sasm… circumcision…”

“That last part doesn’t even match but okay.”

OddLuck went back into her bedroom and dug around for her saddlebag. When she found it, she threw the black leathery material over her hips. What else is missing, what else is missing? she thought. Oh, where are those keys?

She began searching frantically for them, digging through piles of clothes she never wore. She checked in Pile of Clothes A, Pile of Clothes B, her dresser, the shower, the medicine cabinet, and that one unreachable cabinet some houses seem to have, the closet—no, not there or there or anywhere unlikely for keys to end up. She found them while rummaging through her saddlebags for a pack of gum.

She was all out of gum.

“This is mundane.” And I would be one to agree. To witness a mere mortal’s daily life such as OddLuck’s feels so much like a nuance to keep up with. Every moment of every day is filled with pointless moments. Why were the keys suddenly so key on hiding from her when all she had to do was look inside her saddlebags? How come she only found them when she was looking for gum? Why is it so important that she has this gum?

I want some gum. Maybe I can buy a packet from a convenience store on the way or whatever. Hey, maybe they will have some coffee there!

Being immortal, I could never fully comprehend the importance of time. It will never affect me per se, but I can observe it as I watch the planet I have helped build grow and fall. From my understanding, these mortals waste many moments of many days doing needless things such as purchasing gum or coming up with the excuse that they can’t start the day without their morning cup of coffee. They could be serving great conquest, such as building empires, painting the next masterpiece, or even finding cures for diseases. Possibly, even, finding a way to explore the stars beyond our own planet. No, they care about their gum.

It seems that for a mortal, this pointlessness is normality.

This is the moment OddLuck found herself descending from normality.

“Okay, Loosey. I’m leaving.”

“Kay.” Potassium.

OddLuck swung the front door open. I don’t know what I was so stressed about yesterday. I hated working at Frostysplit Cavern. I suppose this is an opportunity to start something new. To see what destiny has in store for me. Hey, maybe I should look for any jobs that need hiring while I’m out. Coffeepot first, though. That’s priority number one.

Taking a deep breath, OddLuck stepped out into the open air—err…

Darkness. This was all she saw surrounding Cherry Oat’s Complex, wherever that was. Where she would normally find the flock of griffons loitering at the front gate, she saw nothing but a black sea stretching out for miles. The harder she looked the more she thought a giant hand would appear and pull her in.

She turned back toward her apartment door.

It was gone.

“Umm… Loosey?” she called.

No response.

“Okay, this has to be some kind of dream.”

She was about to call again when she heard a sound.

Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding

OddLuck turned back toward the black, to be met with a sight almost as peculiar as everything else: a train. It stretched out for miles, its consist shrinking the further down it went as it sank into the darkness.

It was somehow difficult to see yet easy to perceive, if you could say that. Its onyx plates merged with the darkness, but its form was still visible against the blanket. She also noticed a silhouette emerging from the engine car. It was difficult to make out, but it was large with a hunched back and wore a long, veily cloak.

There is a quote from the great philosopher Pliny the Blind that goes, ‘Forget about all anxiety and worries. Let destiny take you. Let it take you like the currents take the sediment from rocks. Let it take you like the wind carries leaves from the tree of life. Let if take you like how a mother carries its child. Where destiny lies, fortune prevails.’

Come to think of it, Pliny the Blind lived during a time where philosophy didn’t rely on logic. He was also the one to deem tomatoes poisonous and considered toilet paper a needless possession. Believing it had healing properties, he chose to wipe his bum with poison ivy leaves. This led to him having a very rash error in judgment.

But whether Pliny the Blind was a philosopher (self-proclaimed as he is) or a madman, this quote truly coincides with this part of OddLuck’s story. The moment she boards that train so much information about her world will be revealed. You could use the expression, ‘It will blow your world away.’ if we’re keeping things literal. Well, it’s something along the lines of that.

“So, umm…. Who are you?” she got closer to the thing, yet still couldn’t see the damn face.

“By the gods,” it said. “About time you spoke. You were staring for so long I considered you for a mute.”

She was caught off guard by the creature’s rude behavior. However, she didn’t let it bother her. “Yes, I can talk. Now, who are you?”

“Assertive one aren’t you? All you need to know is that I’m the conductor.”

“Okay, so… where are we?”

“You are Nowhere. Sorry, I didn’t bring any pudding to welcome you. I forgot to go to the store.”

“I kinda got the gist that we are nowhere, but… what is this place?”

The thing, we’ll call it the Conductor for now, sighed. “I knew Alias bringing a mortal here would be a bad idea. You are Nowhere. The place you are at is Nowhere. Everywhere you look is Nowhere. The place is called Nowhere. Welcome. Now leave your shoes by the door.”

OddLuck frowned at the Conductor but kept her cool. Months of working with P. Gander have taught her patience. “Okay, so… where’s the way out?”

Once again, the Conductor sighed. “Are you Strange Clover?”

“Pardon?”

“Are you Strange Clover? The very Strange Clover of apartment forty-two Cherry Oat’s Complex in Manehatten? Of Equestria? Of that little ball of Earth you spin around on? That one?”

“Well, yes, but I go by—”

“Yap, yap yap—look, I don’t want to deal with you right now. I tried to warn the goddess that bringing a mortal here would be a bad idea, but I’m only a collector of souls. I only do what I’m told. I need to take you somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Nowhere.”

“But I thought we were already there.”

The Conductor sighed for what felt like the millionth time. “Nowhere is never a whole place. It is several places interlaced amongst a sea of universes. Nowhere runs along the canals of the multiverse.”

“So… all I need to do is board this train?”

“Yes. And do it quickly. Eternity is a mighty short time when you’re an immortal conductor of the unconscious spirit.”

She took a step forward but hesitated for a moment. Could boarding this train reveal so much information about herself? Might it ‘blow her world away?’ Or is it all just a dream? That seems like the best explanation. Although, if it really is a dream, it’s a pretty realistic one. What did she have to argue?

OddLuck boarded the train.

The passenger car was empty. There were no seats, no place for her to put her saddlebags, which she was so caught off guard by her surroundings she hadn’t noticed that they mysteriously disappeared. The car was dark, the light of some artificial presence filtered in through the window. She tried to find the source of that light, but all she saw was nothing but pitch black.

There was one item in the passenger car and one item only, and it sent shivers down her spine. There, in the center, stood the rickety-splintery-not-safe-for-work barstool on its four legs, one shorter than the rest. Already she could hear P. Gander screaming.

“You’ll never amount to anything in life if you don’t learn to apply yourself. Life is a three-way road with one direction, and you drove right off the edge and hit a sign!”

OddLuck was suddenly filled with a burst of fury she hadn’t felt since yesterday’s incident. The thought of P. Gander standing in the car with her, squawking in her ear, sent her full of rage.

It’s only a dream, it’s only a dream. He’s not here, nor will you ever have to see him again, she thought, trying to calm herself down. It worked to some extent. She managed to take a few deep breaths by convincing herself no matter what happens, she was ten times better than that cantankerous old bird from the perspective of morality. Such is a mortal’s way of justifying themselves when they feel the need for justification and don’t have the company of anyone else to agree with them.

Before she knew it, she was in front of the stool. Some strange force pulled her toward it. If it were up to her, she would leave this train right now so she wouldn’t have to deal with anything about to transpire. But the force pulling her toward the barstool was… otherworldly. She had so much willpower to consider for a moment yet so little to control herself. It seemed that the longer she didn’t sit on that barstool, the more her curiosity would be piqued, and it would continue to grow unsatisfied thusly.

She had to do it, so she did it.

OddLuck stared straight across the room from where she sat. That mirror image of herself she saw back at the Forgetful Filly stared back at her, nodding her head in approval. A voice echoed through the car. It sounded like the Conductor’s.

I welcome you, Strange Clover, to the sanctuary of your mind, where even then you can’t escape the terror of reality. The very consist you sit in was the same consist used to transport the gods between the multiverse over ten thousand years ago. Now, you’ll use it to learn of the gods and their lives. I hope you packed your lunch because you’re in for quite the field trip. Behold Nowhere, Strange Clover. Where society is based on mere thought.

That’s when the train began to move.

It started slowly at first. But as it gained speed, her insides began to churn. Every pizza, burger, milkshake, malt, malt liquor, brownie, ice cream, candy cane, sugar, honey, iced tea, beer, strangely mutated omelet, cookie (and milk, you can never forget the milk), narcotic, and mom’s cooking she had ever consumed somehow wound back up in her digestive tract and gave her the kind of stomach ache that could only come from moving so fast.

She didn’t have time to see it. She only got a glimpse before she lurched back in her seat and slammed against the wall. How fast is this train going? She thought. Actually, it was something more along the lines of, Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa —(regurgitates violently)—aaaaaaaaaaa!

No, she was overthinking this. She was overthinking all of this. This is all really some bizarre dream. Yes, that’s it. A dream. She would wake up the next morning feeling like someone took a bat to the back of her head, and she would take some special stuff to make it feel better than go out in search for a new job.

For a brief moment, she tried to convince herself that this would happen. Heck, she even tried forcing herself to wake up, but something prevented her from doing so. The more she tried to wake up from this feverish dream, the more it felt even less like one. Her stomach began to churn from the sheer momentum. Her back ached from slamming into the wall of the train so hard, and she could feel the acceleration pressing her down like a child refusing to get his shots during allergy season.

There it was, it went by quickly! OddLuck was sure she saw it right. It was a mound of corpses set aflame, white flower petals dancing playfully in the air(?). Some force was allowing her to see this insane imagery by slowing down time a smidge. It was something she could not perceive physically but grasp mentally.

Somewhere deep down, she knew where it was from, but she didn’t get a chance to think—not that she wanted to; something else flew by. It was another fire. Gazed over a building she recognized. The University of Friendship’s gymnasium. A memory she has tried to suppress.

It went away (Bye, bye!), but more dreadful imagery began to emerge. Bodies lined the floor(?), white flower petals strewn over their corpses, blood splashed over their opalescent beauty.

The train came to a halt. The air compressing her against the wall released and she fell onto the floor. OddLuck groaned in misery as her stomach tried to settle from the beating took. Her back still ached, and she was struggling to forget everything she just saw.

My headache is worse now, dammit! And I still don’t have my coffee pot.

A voice echoed through the car. “Welcome to Nowhere.” It was the Conductors. “This is the section known as ‘The Endless Corridor.’ You’ll want to look for Alias’s Library. Good day. Or night. Whatever time zone we’re in this eternal void.”

The door opened. OddLuck wasted no time scrambling for the outside.

She fell down the steps, onto the marble floor—Oh a lovely detail. Clashes well with the black.

OddLuck felt as if the floor was moving as the blood in her head began to settle. However, as her vision became stable, she realized the floor was moving.

It shot straight into the void, about the width of a very narrow road. Enough room to walk around on but that was it. As the floor continued to drag her along, tall, monolith-like objects began to emerge from the darkness.

Doors side-by-side lined both edges of the floor as it moved. Most of them were labeled with some weird, ancient language that would now be considered untranslatable.

However, as the more the doors passed, the more the language changed. Some were variants of the same language but affected by time. Others were just weird hieroglyphs or symbols.

Even with how slowly they were passing, it was difficult for OddLuck as her brain kept struggling to catch up. But, slowly, the words on the doors began to transform into something translatable. She saw one that said, “The Evolution Museum;” another that said, “Pyrorican’s Armory;” finally, she saw it: “Alias’s Library.”

The floor stopped.

A soft golden glow emanated beneath the doorway. Something was calling for her. Not a voice, but an urge. An urge to see what was behind there. This paranormal force strung her towards it.

OddLuck opened the door just a smidge but was blown back by a forceful gust of wind. Scrambling to her hooves, the door hung wide open.

Poking her head through the doorway, she called, “Hello?”

No response. Nothing but an echo.

The room was, as a stallion would describe when discussing the length of Trottingham’s Sunrise Stadium, ‘Gargantuous.’

Width to length (None ever take girth into consideration, sadly), she couldn’t see the walls of the room. The ceiling itself wasn’t visible either. Rather, it was veiled by a congregated mass of clouds. An endless array of shelves upon shelves lined down the room from all sides. It was almost as if the librarian who had renovated the place looked upon the shelves and said, quote-unquote, ‘Fuck the dewey decimal system.’ then calmly proceed to hang himself.

OddLuck, however, was in awe at the site. The shelves reached high into the clouds. They acted more like walls than platforms used to support books. What piqued her interest most, however, was an object in the distance. It hovered in the air amidst all the whiteness, gleaming with pearlescence.

OddLuck took a step forward, but her stomach lurched again when a sudden force cantered her forward. She stared at the floor for a moment, but when her brain caught up with her surroundings, she realized she had flown across the room. She was now at the object in question.

She was standing on a marble dais, staring at a podium. On top of that podium a book, with the title Book of (Possible) Prophecies etched onto the cover.

Bound in thick leather, the pages crisp and fresh, the book had a superior quality most would consider a rarity. But what was it doing here, she wondered. How did it hold so much relevance to this room that it was given its own special place? What were the pages like on the inside?

Unconsciously, her horn erupted into a flow of green energy and enveloped the book cover. She wanted to feel guilty for snooping, but there were several other facts that acted like catalysts against it. One of these being she was still keen on this being a dream, another that something was telling her to keep going.

She focused her magic on the cover, opened to the first page and...

Blank.

So was the next page and the page after that. The entire book was blank. It was a blank book; a dud made to look impressive; an effigy copy of a baby’s thoughts. A sketchbook. A picture book for the blind (This one is a lily, young Pliny), and other things OddLuck could think of to call it.

She turned away, disappointed. There had to be something in here of relevance. Why else would the Conductor tell her this is where she needed to go? Unless this really was all a dream, which she desperately hoped it both was and wasn’t, there had to be something particularly striking about this place (aside from the entire place).

Clover…

A voice. Calling to her from behind. She turned around, and rather than seeing a pony or something of a sapient nature like she expected, she saw the book. Floating. In the air. Wide open and facing her. Its pages glowing.

Before she could do anything, the light from the book expanded, eating her body whole.

____________________

OddLuck opened her eyes. The bright light was still there, but different.

Golden rays from all directions shot through the branches before her. They hit the ground, creating little pools of beautiful hue. Trees obscured a yellow disc in the sky; however, she could easily judge that it was morning.

It was a forested area. A grove of some kind; somewhat of a glade. She was laying on top of a rock overlooking a puddle. Only… she felt different.

She tried looking around but had no control over her body. It felt like she was trapped inside a very lovely prison. Complete with her own flower vase and an I HEART CELESTIA poster. She couldn’t exactly describe it, but it felt… good being trapped this way as if she had become the manifestation of peace in its purest form.

Her thoughts were broken when she heard the snap of a twig. She stood up—Wait, I didn’t try to stand up. For a moment, OddLuck caught sight of her feet. Were her hooves… cloven?

The crunching of leaves got closer. She could make out a figure emerging from a narrow area of trees in front of her. However, just as the thing was about to reveal itself, the crunching stopped. It stood there, watching her between the cracks of the bark. It was clearly trying to hide, but she clearly knew where it was.

Everything fell silent for several seconds. The sun’s rays hitting against the rock suddenly felt like waves of heat. The multi-shaded leaves sounded like a very tame avalanche in the wind. She could feel her mind suddenly drifting away…

Woooosh!

(1) An explosion rocketed through the trees. (2) OddLuck could see the rock she was once laying on now beneath her, growing further away. (3) The world became a spinning diagram of itself. (4) The sunlight pouring through the branches rushed past her quickly. It looked like someone flicking a flashlight on and off in her eyes. (5) Something hard pressed against her stomach, something like a fist. Strangely enough, she didn’t feel it. (6) A thing wrapped around her leg and threw her against the dirt. (7) She unconsciously tried to lift her head, but something came down against the back of her neck.

Darkness. The kind only of semblance to Nowhere.

Silence befell the grove for several long beats.

A light. Shining with purity brighter and more beautiful than the sun, it filled her vision. OddLuck got a look at the area from every angle as if her eyeballs were swimming around to get a better view.

It all came down onto a headless corpse of some cloven-hoofed creature with golden fur. The darkness came back for a moment and an explosion rang.

Then she opened her eyes. Now she realized. She was no longer in her own body. She was in the body of some creature. Her every action being commanded like a puppet on a string.

And she was floating in midair, staring down at the intruder that had disrupted her peace.

If OddLuck were in her own body, she’d be hanging her maw agape. The intruder wasn’t just any creature—it was a minotaur of all things! However, what struck her peculiar, is how different it looked compared to the hundreds of minotaurs she’s already seen. This one was humongous—no, that's an understatement. Gargantuous!(!) Almost the size of a small house.

He was wearing a thick armor, painted blood-red crimson. (Oh, that’s actual blood, OddLuck thought.), And his fur (Oh, that’s not his armor.) was a black hue with a gray tinge. He would appear almost invisible in darkness. Another thing she noticed was the multiple scars on his body.

There were the ones on his face, such as the few pink lines on his muzzle and chin that suggested a blade of some sort had gouged him there. It was the scars on his chest that piqued her interest, though. Three full circles, outgrowing the previous in size and encompassing each other. A horizontal line cut straight through the middle, along with a vertical line, starting at the center of the smallest circle and extending down to his lower abdomen.

OddLuck knew very little of what was going on here, but she did know she wouldn’t want to face this guy in a dark alley. Maybe in a brightly lit alley—with a police station… and another minotaur-like him for protection.

“It was foolish of you to assume I could be killed that easily,” said a voice. OddLuck realized it was the owner of the body she was in.

“Consider me impressed. Few gods have survived an attack from Pyrinikós. Perhaps you are worthy enough of becoming its sheath."

Okay, that is the scariest voice I’ve ever heard. I hope I never have to meet this guy in real life. Or a dark alley.

“As will your ego be your downfall.”

The minotaur laughed. It wasn’t a traditional laugh, one full of glee which spreads like a cancerous tumor. It was deep and otherworldly. As if all the evils of the world were put into this one laugh. OddLuck so badly wanted to be back in her own body.

“You think you, of all the gods, you can defeat me? Don’t make me laugh a second time! Within the past week, I have slain countless numbers of your people. At least half of them have thrown themselves down at my feet and begged me to let them live. Can you believe it! No, Mother Nature, it is you who will die—here and now!”

Her supervisor (Mother Nature, was that her name?) set herself back onto the ground. The once still air became disruptive as the wind picked up, and the rays of sunlight filtering through the tree limbs turned a darkish gray. “You misunderstand the power of nature, Ragnor. It’s not only the physical manifestation of a geographical formation, but it is also what makes up the world around us. If all you see in the world are trees, then maybe you should look past the leaves.”

Another explosion rang out, this one far more powerful. It came from above, through the branches, and right on top of this minotaur called Ragnor. Her vision was filled with a bright blue light. If this so-called Mother Nature blinked, she wouldn’t have seen the lightning strike.

Her cloven-hoofed captor didn’t even flinch. She stared right into the point of impact. Even with clogs of dirt flying past her eyes, she didn’t blink.

The dust and smoke cleared slowly. The first noticeable signs of anything tangible were the little residues of ember on the ground. A silhouette formed in the center.

An object hurdled right towards her. Just as OddLuck thought it would strike her, Mother Nature ducked, the object flying off to gods know where. The silhouette lunged at her.

Leaping off the ground with the momentum of a bird taking flight, Ragnor’s attempt to attack was thwarted, however, he did have time to take the object out from a tree just as she took sight of him again, midair.

Not hesitating in the slightest, OddLuck felt a warmth grow from the top of her supervisor’s head. A laser, golden and radiating with pure energy, shot out, right into the chest of the minotaur.

He landed with a loud thud into some shrubbery. The minotaur warrior’s tolerance to the powerful blast proved strong, though. Not only was he quick to get up, but he leaped toward his target with a leap faster than a cheetah could tackle its prey!

He lifted the object up, ready to lunge. OddLuck now realized it was a sword. She thought she was about to feel the searing-hot force having her windpipes cut open, but something of the most miraculous nature happened.

A tree scooped him up. It quite simply came unrooted, walked over to the battle, picked up the minotaur, and threw him.

He landed on the rock she had woken on. The boulder smashed into pieces, the shrapnel of smaller rocks flinging into the air. Okay, this should clearly do him in.

The minotaur got back up without a flinch.

Mother Nature shot another blast of energy at the minotaur. OddLuck thought it connected but was stunned when she realized that not only had he dodged the beam, but he was right in her face!

She felt another blow, this one below her chin, and the beam of light broke. Her body flew into the air, the branches becoming blurs—then another blow to her stomach and she felt the hard impact of her back hitting the ground.

I need you. Now. Came a voice from inside her head. She realized it was Mother Nature’s.

Ragnor walked up in front of her. He wore a smug smirk on his face. “You really are powerful. All the previous gods I’ve defeated were all talk. They spoke of riddling my life with curses and giving me torturous deaths. But they all failed to realize who I am. It is because of that, I will take great pleasure in ripping your beating heart out.”

Mother Nature looked up at Ragnor calmly. Not saying a word.

“What’s wrong? Calf got your tongue? Let me readjust it!”

He raised his arm in the air and was about to strike her, but something stopped him. A hand grabbed his wrist and—

His sword reappeared in his free hand, seemingly from out of nowhere. Flames, the brightest OddLuck had ever seen, enveloped the minotaur. An explosion rocketed the air once more and a gray cloud covered her vision.

OddLuck was sure whatever just happened had finally done this Ragnor in, but as the flames died away and the smoke began to clear, the silhouette of a minotaur took form—no, this was a different minotaur.

Blue fur, bulging biceps, a pearlescent smile, a gleaming axe radiating with awesome power. Just the feel of this being’s presence impressed her. The mere sight of him was something else to behold. Aside from his glimmering twelve-pack and calves like towering trees with buttocks injections, he was even larger than Ragnor. Possibly, the size of a small house—most preferably with a chimney.

“Ha, ha, ha!” he laughed. “He didn’t see it coming!”

Her supervisor stood back up, staring at this newcomer. OddLuck began to wonder whether he was an enemy too, but the friendly smile he gave her proved otherwise.

“Nicely done,” said Mother Nature. “But please refrain from destroying any more of my nature.”

The minotaur looked around the area, still holding his iconic smile. A tree, along with some grass, were still aflame. Sparks of red-orange rose from the churning ember, licking his now guilt-riddled face.

“Sorry,” he said shyly.

“It’s alright, Bobby. However, Ragnor still thrives. There is no way that blow could so easily decimate him. Let’s find him and finish him.”

The minotaur OddLuck now knew as Bobby smirked. “I think my brother will do the finding himself.”

And he was right. Speeding out of the woods, there he came, a blur in the gray. OddLuck felt
a strange sensation in the earth beneath her. Something moving along the ground at a dangerous speed. Everything disappeared for a moment when her cloven-hoofed capture sunk down into the earth.

The trees and grass blew past as she had become some force of nature (Oh, I get it.). There was Ragnor, running at a high speed, ready to strike the blue minotaur from behind. Time slowed to a stand-still as all the trees in the area came to life at once and ran toward him.

Ragnor skidded to a stop and smiled a terrifying smile, one with teeth that resembled the crescent of the moon. His sword appeared in hand, and a dark energy emanated in the air.

The sword tripled in size. Its sharp edge ignited with ebony flames that coated the entirety of his right arm. Pointing it, the flame shot out into a long blast that obliterated every tree in sight.

The world disappeared once again, and Mother Nature rose from the ground behind Ragnor. With a burst of speed unparallelled to any creature OddLuck had ever seen, she barrelled straight towards the minotaur’s blind spot—and was flung to the side as the back of his hand met her face.

Much like the previous blows, OddLuck didn’t feel this one. However, a strange, glowing liquid did spill out of her supervisor’s mouth, the gold residue staining the grass in splotches. Mother Nature stood up, looking down at the splotches of ichor, then looked back at Ragnor—who was now hurling a fist toward her.

She dodged it and headbutted him. The shockwave made them skid away a few feet, but without hesitation, they dashed right back into each other headfirst.

Another powerful shockwave blew across the field, a golden aura expanding across the landscape. As OddLuck was spinning in the air, she could see the trees, the flowers, and the grass hold tightly to the ground, dancing from the sheer force of the blow.

She landed on her feet, facing the black minotaur. He stood in a battle-ready stance, sword in both hands. Black flames covered both of his arms. He looked like the shadow of some crumpled-up object swaying in the wind.

The wind began to pick up. The trees and grass danced to the music of nature’s rhythm. OddLuck felt something wet fall onto her supervisor’s muzzle. The soft howling of the wind filled the silence they shared for several seconds.

They moved at the first lightning strike, fluently and quickly. He ran to the side while she sunk back into the earth. Ragnor stopped in his tracks, frustration evident on his face.

“Choosing to hide, huh!” he screamed. Gripping his sword into both hands, he turned around and shot a mass of dark fire into the forest. An entire row of trees was obliterated, replaced by the smolders of ember. “This forest will be reduced to charcoal by the time I’m done with it!”

Ragnor heard something running up behind him and swiveled around—then brought his blade up to block an attack from an oncoming waraxe. The bottom of the head hooked over the flat side of the sword. They stood, locked together, struggling to overcome the other.

They broke it when Ragnor brought a fist to Bobby’s face. The blue savior unhooked his waraxe and staggered backward. Ragnor pointed his sword at him and shot another blast of ebony.

Gripping the head of his axe with both hands, he brought it up and deflected the attack. OddLuck could tell that there would have been some serious damage because the blast pushed him backward; two parallel lines of unrooted grass followed in his wake.

Ragnor continued to hold the blast, the strain of holding against the line of ebony becoming evident on Bobby’s face. Then, another miraculous thing happened: Bobby’s axe lit on fire.

No, this was not any normal fire. It was as if the weapon ceased to be a solid object; something entirely arcane. A line of white-yellow fire slowly began to push the ebony away.

Darkness and light clashed together as the two focused on overpowering the other. OddLuck’s perspective switched to the ground again as Mother Nature emerged next to Bobby, firing her own blast. The line of pure light trailing beside his flames.

The light above her head caused everything else around her to darken. All that was visible to her was the ball of energy building in the center of the battle. With the first signs of strenuous effort her supervisor has shown since the battle started, the ball shot towards Ragnor and consumed him.

The minotaur shot backward, landing on his back. Smoke rose from his corpse. Would it be appropriate now to breathe a sigh of relief? OddLuck thought.

Lifting the lower half of his body into the air, Ragnor pushed with his back and landed on his feet. His sword, which had flown somewhere off in the distance, reappeared in his hands.

I guess not.

Without taking his attention away from Ragnor, Bobby said, “Nothing we do will hurt him. There has to be some way to beat him.”

“There is one way,” said Mother Nature. “We cannot destroy him, but perhaps we could freeze him in time.”

She could tell a confused look fell over his face. “You can do that?”

“I’ll need to leave the battle for a minute and then I’ll need another minute to charge the attack. But yes.”

Bobby’s smile came back. “So, hold him off for you?”

“Just make sure he doesn’t make it back to the grove.”

“Whatever it takes to stop him.” he turned to look at Mother Nature. “You have gifted me this power, it’s only right that I return the favor and use it to fulfill its purpose.”

Mother Nature nodded. “Here he comes.”

Another explosion. This one generated by Mother Nature herself. It was a flash of light, meant to blind Ragnor for a moment so she could escape. The sound of blades clashing grew faint while she retreated into the trees.

She ran over to the pond she woke up at, the surface breaking into a million ripples per second as the rain drenched harder. When she set a cloven hoof on the black surface, OddLuck thought it would sink down right away. Strangely enough, her supervisor set another hoof on the surface and walked to the center of the pond. Only then did she sink beneath it.

OddLuck could feel the smooth feel of the water around her. Bubbles escaped Mother Nature’s maw as she let out several breaths. All was dark and all was quiet.

For a moment, OddLuck thought she was going to drown herself—take the easy way out and avoid a death by his blade. Then she realized something: she was no longer sinking, but falling!

Droplets of water followed her as she fell into the darkness. It looked like the very same darkness of Nowhere, only she was heading toward a circular platform. If a random bystander saw this display, it would look like something straight out of a mythical painting.

She landed on the platform and searched the area. Encompassing the entire circumference were pedestals supporting weird trinkets. A few weapons, pieces of armor, some even looking like simple household items such as a vase.

Her eyes stopped on an oddly formed battle helm. It was golden with two eccentric cyan colored eyepieces. Two horns protruded from the top, looking more like antennas then something intimidating. There was a plate below it: Helm of Chrónos.

The helm levitated off the pedestal and over her head. It felt odd, probably because she wasn't meant to wear it. OddLuck felt another ɘɔᴎɘꙅɘɿq, as if she had the aid of ˙ɹǝɥ ǝpısǝq ǝuoǝɯos

Chrónos! pɐǝɥ ɹǝɥ uı ǝɔıoʌ ɐ ǝɯɐƆ. Grant me your power! Allow me to avenge your death rightfully!

𝓦eird hieroglyphs and sʎmbols appeared, similar⃣ to the ones on the doors from the Endless Corridor. Many of them spoke of rid⃣ d⃣ l⃣ e⃣ s⃣ and prophecies, others chanted peculiar spells or curses. ₜₕₑ helmet suddenly felt wårm. ∀ꙅ ıᎸ ıƚ ʜɒq pɘɘᴎ |ɘᎸƚ ıᴎ ƚʜɘ ꙅnᴎ oᴎ ɒ ɯı|q|ʏ ʜoƚ qɒʏ˙

A canopy of green obscured the forest floor. The rain bombarded her fur, clunking down like stones against the helmet. There was a plume of smoke in the distance. During her short time away from reality, either Bobby or Ragnor must have used a powerful attack and decimated an entire section of the forest. Perhaps it was a combination of the two.

Another explosion rocketed the air and a new plume of smoke rose. OddLuck could feel a small surge of panic began to rise in her supervisor’s chest. It was the first negative emotion she had felt since the battle started.

Bobby, whatever you’re doing, stop. Protect the plants, they are part of this world just as you are!

She flew over the trees, toward the new tower of smoke in the distance. When she got near, OddLuck noticed how her supervisor took great care in avoiding the cloud.

They landed on the forest floor, the sensation of everything around her flowing through her. She could hear the trees, the animals thoughts, the grass muffling, “Gi tha fa ahff ahf me.” Which probably translates to something like, “Get the fuck off of me!”

She found what she was looking for; a commotion in the earth. Four large feet shuffle against the ground. The grass making plans to form a coup.

Mother Nature ran toward the disruption. The top of her head kept getting warmer. Like the annoying headache she had this morning, it was slowly growing; taking time to form and get bigger. A humming sound emanated through the air.

She broke through the trees. The two stood locked together, axe to sword. Bobby brought his axe away from the blade, into the air and brought it back down. Ragnor, foreseeing this attack, deflected it and hurled a punch right into the blue savior’s stomach.

Bobby skidded a few feet backward; the punch seemed to have no physical effect on him. However, Mother Nature could feel an inner-pain emanating from him. Could she feel when someone is hurt? She felt nothing when Ragnor took a few hits, so why is it that this other minotaur could feel pain?

That answer didn’t have time to take form, because Ragnor came for her next. Mother Nature leaped over him as he tried to tackle her to the ground. A burning sensation entered her chest, the first real time OddLuck has felt any pain since being in this body. Her supervisor coughed from being exposed to the ashy atmosphere and nearly collapsed to the ground.

Bobby… the smoke…

Bobby ran between the two, facing Ragnor. Brandishing his axe in hand, he twirled it like a majorette would twirl a baton. A powerful gust shot toward his brother, causing Ragnor to fly far into the forest.

The makeshift fan ceased, Bobby, gripping the handle of his axe tightly.

Wasting no time, he ran over to Mother Nature and picked her up, throwing her over her shoulder. Her head was even hotter now. Not to a boiling point per se, but if OddLuck herself were to wear this helmet, her ears would probably be sweating from the intensity of the heat.

“Don’t worry about the fire, the rain will put it out soon enough. Just get me out of here,” she said between breaths. Whatever this fire was doing, she suddenly felt weak. “Perhaps if we find a closed-off space, I can get a good shot at Ragnor.”

Her lungs burned. Somehow this mythical being could survive getting her head chopped off, but she can’t handle a simple forest fire? There was much about this story that left OddLuck dumbfounded and confused. And she had plenty of reason to complain because she could very well feel her insides melting now.

Bobby ran. Moreso, the two flew through the dense forest. The further they got away from the clearing, the thinner the smokey air became. Soon, her lungs were breathing normally again. It wasn’t long before OddLuck realized they were going uphill—

The ground fell away as the two separated in the air. Mother Nature caught herself and hovered, small clumps of rocks and muddy earth rickashaying against her coat as the dust cleared. OddLuck looked down at a hole the size of a small crater.

Ragnor floated in midair, sword in hand, right arm dancing with dark flames. The entire upper part of his body covered in mud. The rain was quick to wash it away. With the combination of the darkening sky and blackish-grayish fur covered with grains of the earth, he nearly became two white, floating eyeballs. He raised his sword, and—

A blink. Mother Nature dashed up to him, the evil minotaur’s eyes expanded in surprise as she was in kissing distance. He almost recovered from the shock, but his moment of hesitance gave her enough time to set two of her cloven hooves on his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

With a calm grace only one could muster with years of meditation and willpower of the mind, the two were engulfed by a surge of light.

If one were to observe it, it would look like a crack in the sky coming down on an overcharged lightbulb. For several seconds, Mother Nature stayed there, interlocked with Ragnor. OddLuck was sure this would finally do him in, but something hard came down against her head.

Her embrace broke and the light disappeared. Mother Nature fell backward and tried to regain her balance in the air. Another blow to her back, this one feeling like the first real pain in over a century, and she fell toward the trees.

Okay, it’s all over! This looks like the end! OddLuck thought. She just took a backbreaking blow and was now falling toward her death. This isn’t how it’s supposed to end. At least do me the courtesy of falling to my death without having to deal with back pain!

The treetop came near. OddLuck thought she was going to be met with a faceful of leaves and the warm pillow of death, but it never came. Her train of thought was lost for a moment, but when it regained, she found herself staring down at the leaf-carpeted floor of the forest.

The tree that saved her, brandishing her aching body in its branches, set her down gently. She barely had time to breathe when Ragnor came down hard right in front of her.

“You seriously think a pathetic contraption such as that could defeat me?” he said as the dust in the air began to settle, obviously referring to the object on her head. “After the taskless effort to pry it from his head, you still think a ridiculous helmet could incapacitate me long enough for you to get an advantage? Have you learned nothing?”

The heat on top of her head was gone now. The helmet glowed and hummed lightly. It felt as if a new power was surging through her body. Yes Chrónos. Came Mother Nature’s voice. Thank you.

She struggled to get up. A sharp pain shot through her back, but she still pushed through it (What a badass, OddLuck couldn’t help but oblige. Also, ouch, I feel that too. I really hope I’m alive and me again soon, and that my back doesn’t hurt. It’s bad enough lumbago runs in my family.). “The barrier…” Mother Nature gasped. Instead of finishing the sentence, Ragnor grabbed the helmet by the antennas with his free hand, held her up in the air, and flung her against the base of the tree that had saved her.

Ouch. Again.

Ragnor appeared as a blur beneath the gray ceiling. He stood there before her, examining the helmet she was just wearing. There was a huge dent in the forehead, and it was missing one of its eyepieces. The antennae he was grabbing onto was also bent.

“So…” he said. “The great Mother Nature, one of the most powerful of the gods, thought she could defeat me using an enchanted piece of armor? Why must you keep putting me in good humor?” His sword disappearing in a wisp of smoke, he grabbed the second antenna and broke the helmet in half effortlessly, tossing the two useless pieces in front of her.

Her supervisor’s eyes didn’t break away from the helmet. “Do you… do you know how enchantments work?”

“Of course! Even if you had managed to charge that time beam into completion, it would have been useless! You’re nothing without the real God of Time here to wear that helmet!”

“You are correct. An enchantment can’t reach its full potential unless the person who had crafted it were present. Chrónos specifically designed the helmet for himself.”

“You’re just repeating facts to a minotaur that already knows the universe.” Ragnor interrupted, but Mother Nature continued.

“But by charging the time beam to be as powerful as can be and combining it with a force of destructive power, that can not only break through the enchantment’s barrier but the force binding it to the object in question, giving it an extra influx of power. Why, it’d almost be as if you had a piece of Chrónos’s power for yourself.” If OddLuck could blink, she wouldn’t have seen it. Mother Nature left her spot in front of the tree and sped behind Ragnor, muzzle to ear. “And I do.”

Time slowed as Ragnor lifted his hand in the air, sword slowly coming into form. Mother Nature jumped backward, a new heat forming from the top of her head. Without having to charge up this newfound power, she shot it out in a beam, and it connected solidly with the evil being.

Time returned to a normal pace as Mother Nature retracted the beam. Ragnor, the once-terrifying minotaur who had betrayed the gods, was now encased in an amber-like crystal. He stared back at her, eyes poised and ready to attack, sword in hand. He would hold that position for years to come.

Mother Nature breathed a sigh of relief. The massive power influx she was exposed to had done a number on her body, leaving her in a weaker state. It also doesn’t help that she breathed in all that smoke. However, all of this could be healed easily.

She was about to turn away when she felt another strange force in the earth. Something arriving at a high speed. Before she could register what it might be, Bobby broke through the trees, axe poised in the air and in a battle-ready stance. “I am here, Mother Nature!”

She stared back at Bobby. He stared at the crystal prison encasing his brother. “Oh…” he said, putting his axe down shyly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said, limping up to the minotaur savior. “You just helped save the gods from meeting a complete demise. Without you, nature still wouldn’t exist.” OddLuck could feel a warm smile spread across her face.

“Ha ha!” screamed Bobby, flexing his mighty pecs. His biceps rippled with godly strength, veins popping out like canyons during an earthquake. OddLuck heard a politely refrained sigh in her supervisor’s head.

“Let us celebrate! We’ll get drunk on mead and sake until the sun rises!”

“I don’t drink, Bobby.” The minotaur halted his excitement and gave her a disappointed look. “But perhaps I could make an exception.”

“Ha ha!” he bellowed and resumed flexing. His nipples gleamed in the serenity of a lightning strike.

The ground shook. Bobby stopped celebrating and looked around in confusion. “Is that you doing that?”

Mother Nature was quiet for a moment. OddLuck could feel a small pang of panic rise in her supervisor’s chest again. She swiveled around quickly and stared back at the crystal prison, a crack forming on its surface.

Before she had time to react, it exploded into shards, small pieces attacking but not cutting her eccentric coat. “No…” she finally said

Ragnor, sword in hand, made a jump for Mother Nature. He brought his sword overhead and was about to bring it down on her, but Bobby jumped between them and deflected the blade with the hilt of his axe.

Sparks blossomed in the air and dissolved as they fell. Bobby, holding his axe at an awkward angle, lowered the head and made a diagonal stroke upward.

It was a weak attack, but one Ragnor didn’t see coming. It was probably the first time OddLuck saw him grimace in pain since the fight started. It was only a laceration running the entire length of his chest. The blood let out quickly, covering the upper half of his abdomen. It wouldn’t kill him, but OddLuck was relieved to see that this thing was at least mortal!

However, she wouldn’t have time to metaphorically kiss the ground, because Ragnor rounded a fist against Bobby’s chin. The minotaur stumbled backward, catching himself with one foot behind the other. This allowed him to carry more momentum in his punch—which connected solidly with the bridge of his brother’s nose.

The black beast was knocked onto his back, but in an impressive display of flexibility, he jumped back up on his feet. Sword in hand, he ran toward his brother. Axe in hand, the head glowed with an awesome white light, the flames crackling and licking the air around it. Even from this spot, OddLuck could feel the energy it was giving off.

The two clashed, light and dark, black and white mixed together. A bright glow filled the area. Another, then another, and soon they became very consistent. The two held their ground, neither letting the other get the better of them.

Hold him still, Bobby. Mother Nature said.

The two brought their weapons together, the blade of the axe meeting the blade of a sword. They held that position for several seconds. She heard a stiff crackling, like wood churning in a fire. A spark flung from the glowing dot between the two blades, but they pulled away before she could register what it was.

Mother Nature ran up to Ragnor and he swiped his sword. She ducked then tried to headbutt his chin. The minotaur deflected this with a headbutt of his own. OddLuck thought this would leave an opening for another one of Bobby’s attacks, but he was quick to deflect that too.

The three battled for what felt like hours. He got a few blows in on Mother Nature. Most she did not feel, some she did. Mother Nature and Bobby proved to make an unstoppable duo. At some point during the fight, Bobby had allowed her to use his back as leverage to take a quick leap into the air and aim a blast of light energy at Ragnor.

Eventually, Ragnor’s impatience began to show.

“Enough of this foolishness!” he said. “I am here for you, not him!”

He pointed his sword at Mother Nature and a dark cloud billowed toward her. It proved easy to dodge, but not so easy to evade. She soon found herself running away from the black mass as it followed her.

OddLuck felt like a blur of light speeding past the trees, the wind whipping her face spasmodically. She was sure the black cloud would dissipate by now, but it continued to chase her. She nearly met a dead end at a tree, but made a quick turn, the cloud flying into its trunk.

She swiveled around. OddLuck could feel a sense of worry arising in her supervisor’s chest. The tree came to life. However, unlike the tree that tossed Ragnor, this one’s bark darkened and it shriveled up. Its leaves crumbled and fell to the ground.

The tree swung at her, but she jumped out of the way. Another tree next to her came to life and tackled the corrupted tree trying to get her. More trees in her area came to life, some of them were hers, but many of them shriveled away and attacked the others.

She took off into the air and was about to fly high over the forest when a branch wrapped around her leg. Not even hesitating, she turned back down and shot a beam of light. The tree fell to the ground in smolders and she took off.

It didn’t take long to find the two, perhaps because they were fighting in midair.

The rain came down like a bag of marbles being emptied out onto a sidewalk. Her coat was remarkably dry, despite the rain coming down so hard. It was almost relaxing, like a crackling fire—no. There was a different crackling sound not so relaxing. As soon as she heard it, she flung herself to the battle at an uncanny speed.

The two locked their weapons together, pulled away, and swung back toward each other—hard. OddLuck saw sparks fly away from the collision. Another crackling sound broke the air.

They pulled away and were about to swing again when a beam of light shot between them. She hovered a yard away, the heat on her head building up for another blast. The two stared back at her.

“Stop this foolishness! Bobby, can’t you see what you’re doing to the axe?”

Bobby looked from Mother Nature to the head of his axe with a confused look on his face. However, he didn’t have time to respond because Ragnor brought down his sword one last time.

Then it happened.

Another explosion rocketed through the air. This one brighter than any lightning strike OddLuck had ever seen (two). The smoke cleared and she could see the two minotaurs hovering. Holding the remaining pieces of their once empowering weapons. Ragnor, clutching a pommel similarly shaped to the symbol on his chest; Bobby, gripping a piece of his axe’s hit.

A look of intense anger plastered onto Ragnor’s face. “You… you…”

Using the hand still clutching the pommel, he swung a fist at Bobby. The minotaur cantered backward and countered with a round kick. Bobby proceeded to swing another fist into Ragnor’s face and—it happened in an instant.

Ragnor dodged the fist and grabbed Bobby by the wrist; unknowingly leaving himself open. Mother Nature, finally seeing a clear shot, fired another time beam. Ragnor spun in the air with Bobby in hand. Just as she fired, he let go of Bobby, his body flying toward the goddess. The beam collided.

The shocked face of the once mobile hero stared back at her as it fell down toward the earth. Her supervisor reared back in stunned silence, not realizing this gave Ragnor an opening. And this she learned the hard way as an untimely force came crashing down on her.

The two tumbled toward the trees. Ragnor threw his hands around her neck. Her windpipes compressed and she gasped for her. Mother Nature struggled in Ragnor’s grasp, but his grip was too strong. He held that grip as they fell to the earth.

OddLuck felt more heat on top of her head and Ragnor was pushed away by another beam of light. Rather than hurt him, however, he faced himself downward in a vertical position and grabbed her by the scruff of her neck. The momentum he was building from this angle caused them to plummet much faster toward the peak of a mountain.

Another crack of lightning came down on Ragnor and he loosened his grip. She felt weaker, as if this move took much more power than usual. That might be the case, because he looked hurt by it. Without breaking her concentration, she flew above the minotaur and fired another light beam.

The line carried him downward, the rain coming down against it evaporating. This was a move of sheer power, as OddLuck could tell from the amount of strenuous effort her supervisor was putting into holding it.

It was a few seconds before the beam broke. OddLuck suddenly felt so much weaker. Her body felt limp and she barely had enough energy to keep flying. Her supervisor let herself fall. The rain cascaded down on her as she plummeted to the earth.

She fell through a hole her bream had created. It took the force of pushing a five-ton minotaur toward the earth to break through the rocky ground. Her feet set down in a dark cave, the minotaur’s body nowhere to be found.

The sound of footsteps echoed around her, and she turned in all directions to find out where they were coming from. A figure emerged into her vision, grabbed her by the throat, and slammed her against the cave wall.

Air stopped flowing through her windpipes as the vice holding her throat tightened its grip. It was an ever-growing pain unlike OddLuck’s migraine from this morning. The more his fingers pressed into her neck, the more it felt as if her head would pop!

“That sword was the sole reason why I’ve come this far. To think, I would feel the satisfaction of seeing it pierce through your stomach. But that doesn’t matter. I can make a new one.”

The top of her head heat up again. At first, OddLuck felt excitement course through her body mentally, but then she felt a searing pain tear into her shoulder—Ragnor stuck her with the sharp end of his sword’s pommel!

White-gold trickled down her leg and splotched the cave floor. A strange force tranced through her—something unholy. However, there was another, stronger force fighting it off.

Ragnor threw her against the ground, her supervisor taking a deep, guttural breath. “Impressive. Not only have you managed to hold off for this long, but you’re able to suppress the sword’s curse.”

She could feel Mother Nature trying to stand up. Her legs wobbled and shook as if she were holding a really heavy backpack. Her breathing had fallen out of rhythm, every breath she let out trailed into a loud wheeze. Her left leg had gone completely numb as the unholy force completely took control of it. Its once golden fur darkened into black ebony similar to the fire of the sword’s. Sharp talons protruded from her foot where her cloven hoof once was. The strange force inside of her tried pushing her into an unconscious state, but Mother Nature fought against it.

OddLuck felt another blow against her ribs where Ragnor’s foot connected. “Why do you still fight? I have defeated you! I have conquered nature itself! So why do try and stand? Why do you fight off the curse? Hasn’t the fact that I let you turn revealed that I take pity on you? Don’t you want to live long enough to see the demise of the High Gods?

Mother Nature struggled back up to her feet. “Y-you…” the words came out between wheezes. “Are pure evil, Rah-Ragnor—”

A blow to her cheekbone and she flew across the floor. OddLuck was amazed by her efforts—she kept struggling back up! “Even if you kill me… even if you find the Creator… even if you destroy this planet… you’ll never defeat the High Gods… their powers are limitless.”

“You speak of tall tales! You can barely stand. Do you think I would listen to you, when you are about to meet your end?”

“When one… when one is about to die, they speak of a million truths, only the foolish a million lies. But don’t underestimate the power of nature Ragnor… I still stand. Only on my knees, I can, but I can fight.”

“Impossible!” Ragnor grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes, muzzle to snout. “Look at you! What can you possibly do against the likes of me? Give it up already, you are beaten! Are you really the Goddess of Nature? I thought you were wiser, but you’ve proven the stupidest of gods! How do you still have the courage to fight when you’ve fallen to your knees? Where does that courage come from when your soul is in the process of being corrupted by the pommel of my sword? Why do you still persist on winning? How—”

It happened instantaneously.

A bright light illuminated the entire cavern. Mother Nature’s coat glowed as bright as the sun itself, warmth coursing through her body. The dark skin her leg peeled and Ragnor backed away, blinded by the light.

It didn’t stop there. The light grew, consuming the entire cavern. It looked like something completely ceasing from existence. Ragnor stood in place with his eyes closed, trying to find where she might be. Leaving himself open for attack.

New energy hummed in the air above her head. It was similar to the time beam’s, but this one felt added. As if she were gathering the very life forces of the earth around her and putting it all into this one blast.

It let loose; this beam the strongest OddLuck had seen yet. It enveloped the entire cavern, attacking Ragnor from all sides. The monstrosity of a minotaur screamed in frustration, before becoming muffled. Mother Nature continued to hold that blast for several long seconds.

She finally let go when she had no more energy to continue. The blast broke and the light around her disappeared, the cavern reforming into its dark state.

Her cloven-hoofed capture dropped to the floor and took several deep breaths. Her wheezing was gone, and her leg was back to normal, but she felt dizzy. Very dizzy. Like she could pass out at any moment.

In front of her was the same amber-like crystal that had entrapped Ragnor earlier. However, she could barely make out the silhouette of the minotaur. Mother Nature walked up to the wall, her coat emanating a soft light.

All that could be made out from the crystal’s surface was the reflection of a doe.

____________________

The bright glow of the book dimmed as OddLuck regained consciousness. Slowly, she could make out the interior of the library once again. For the first time, she was glad to finally see the endless array of bookshelves. Whatever she saw just now, she didn’t want to know. Not a lick of any of it made sense; neither did she want to be inside of that body and get stabbed in the arm again.

The golden glow died to a small glob and the book shut on its own. The metallic pedestal hummed from the massive power influx just given off then died away quickly. For the first time since this bizarre nightmare had begun, OddLuck breathed a sigh of relief.

“I see you found a book to your liking.”

She perked up. Swiving around to the voice behind her, OddLuck reared back in shock by what she saw: not a pony, not a zebra, not a griffon nor a hippogriff, not even a giraffe. No, definitely not a giraffe.

The creature was humongous, almost the size of the minotaur brothers. It had a long, crimson mane that extended all across its back, flowing with pure ethereal energy; its tale the same. It had long, spiny legs that ended with claws, like four enormous (and well moisturized) palm trees turned upside down. The torso was thin and narrow; not in a way one would describe another’s beauty through their body weight, but in a way that looks as if one has been starving themselves for quite some time. Her face was a representation of this. Pale against her gray coat, eyes sunken in and dim, cheeks caving in, OddLuck managed to see some beauty in this creature despite its clearly insane features.

“Perhaps I could be of some assistance,” it said with a presence that was calm and beautiful and everything elegant.

This is the moment OddLuck met Alias.

Author's Notes:

Jesus. This took so long to push out. I meant to write this chapter months ago, but a few things happened that put me in a stressful mood for... a long time. How long(?), I can't even count. Well, it doesn't matter. The chapter is finally out and I'm happy.

Originally, I was going to have Alias explain to OddLuck the prophecy in the same chapter she would arrive in Nowhere, but I didn't expect to write the flashback scene until I started the chapter. The original draft was actually supposed to be a folklore-style account of Bobby's life and how he became a warrior of the gods, but it was needless filler. However, he was originally suppose to be a character in an unpublished fic I wrote years ago. I figured "Why not?" and used him here. Perhaps I'll find the chance to do it then? Perhaps I'll find the chance to touch on it next chapter? Who knows?

If you'll excuse me, I have to go research volcanoes for a... really cool chapter coming up. You'll see. I still have to introduce a few characters, but it's one I'm really anticipating to write as it will allow me to flex my worldbuilding muscles.

I really like birds.

Chapter III - Lost in Nonexistence

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For what almost felt eternal, OddLuck became entranced by the herd of white blobs that dotted the black canvas of nonexistence. “The Multiverse Cluster,” Alias had called it. “These are universes. Hundreds of trillions of them. It’s very possible that this could only be a small quadrant of your existence.”

She thought about her life. Her age, the little she’s done. The everlasting fire of the eight months she put in no more than a month ago, and those flames burned into her skull to the point that she began mentally grasping for a knob of some sort to escape the blazing inferno that encapsulated her. Life did not matter, because not only was her world on fire, but the next one and the next one encircled it to the point that it became a massive black hole in her hippocampus. Insignificant.

These dreadful thoughts continued to reign down on her, nudge her from all sides; leaving a queasy feeling in her stomach. She felt the fire of eternity singing her cheeks, trying to bode her attention. Then she realized that wasn’t an inner feeling.

“Cookie?” the creature OddLuck had met so recently said. The green mare, crumbs on her right cheek, stared up at this “Alias” that had a glamorous smile pasted on her grey face. The creature seemed to read her expression, and her smile fell. A cookie jar hovered next to her and she dropped the chocolate chip disc inside. If OddLuck wasn’t so mesmerized by everything else, she would have questioned how the cookie jar disappeared without a sound or trace. In this realm, not only were they surrounded by darkness, but floating in the midst of it—nothing but the Multiverse Cluster in sight.

“So, this is it?” OddLuck said, turning back towards the Cluster. “This is what my existence is worth? This is all I had to look forward to in my life? Spending my entire childhood knowing I might be destined for something great one day just to learn that it’s all meaningless?”

Alias looked down at the mare with a knowing look. “Believe me, Strange Clover, when you’re alone with your thoughts for ten thousand years you began to grow some appreciation for it.”

OddLuck’s ears perked up and she looked back up at Alias. “Ten thousand years? How old are you? What are you?”

“As I’ve told you, my name is Alias, and I am a goddess. If you must know my age, that information is confidential. I’m as old as the world itself. Knowing the exact age may blow your mind. Instead, here’s what I can tell you: my name is Alias, as we’ve discussed. No, it’s not my actual name… I don’t know my actual name. It’s been so long I’ve forgotten. I don’t even remember what I’m a goddess of. A goddess of doubt, I suppose… but even that I have lingering suspicion. I think the only reason I’ve managed to cling to some hope of sanity is that I had books to keep me company over the centuries. And, of course, knowledge is ever-extending. So. Alias. Goddess of Doubt and Oracle of Possible Prophecies. Oracle—that I am for sure, for I claimed the role when the Divine Epidemic ended.”

OddLuck’s ears twitched again. “Divine Epidemic…” she let the words roll off her tongue, the vowels caressing her lips. Pushing the existential dread into a small box at the corner of her mind, serene curiosity took over. However, the more she thought about it, the bigger that box got. “Goddess… prophecy… What does all of this mean? Who are you? What is this? What are you really! This has to be a dream! Yeah, a dream—there’s no way any of this can be real. I’m at home, in bed right now. I’m going to wake up any moment hungover, make a prairie oyster, then go out and find a new job. There’s no way in Tartarus that any of this is real!”

“Sometimes reality is beyond what we perceive. If you can think, you must exist. If you exist, what else can? You live in a society where friendship is not only a political agreement between nations, but an amiable form of magic. Yet you assume that I am not real? That everything you see right now is not believable? Who are you to rightfully say how logic works?”

“I know how logic works!”

“But here we are! In a realm, so far out of logic it hardly exists at all! Look upon the Multiverse Cluster, and tell me what you see.”

OddLuck turned her attention back toward the Cluster, her mind becoming a blank slate as it became busy with not caring what some illusion has to say. “A bunch of glowing white orbs?”

“Strange Clover, what is the driving force of society?”

OddLuck’s ear was in a particularly twitchy mood at this hour of eternity. She turned her head back toward the creature, expectant of an answer. When she got none, she said, “What?”

“What is the force that allows society to thrive?”

OddLuck shrugged, not really in the mood for philosophical debate. “War?”

“War? How about the concept of war? The invention of the siege tower? Let’s get a little simpler—the wheel. Sliced bread? Beanbag chairs? What do all of these things have in common? They were all based off someone else’s thoughts. If you think, you are. If it exists as a thought, it can exist as a belief. If you believe hard enough, it becomes reality.”

OddLuck rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say.”

“You doubt me, but I have ways of convincing you. You might not believe right now, but I assure you, you will know the universe and beyond soon enough.”

“I don’t want to know the universe or whatever’s beyond. I want to go home.”

“And not find the meaning you’ve longed for in your life?”

An eyebrow twitch and Alias smirked, knowing she had struck a nerve with the mare. “I know you very well, I’ve had a lot of time to study you. I know who you are and how you think. You’re depressed, Clover. You go by some abstract nickname because you’re too afraid to be yourself. You’re afraid to be yourself because you believe the most you’re destined to be is something less-than-interesting. You don’t want to be yourself because yourself is uninteresting. Not only that, but your life is in the toilet. You’ve lost the only job you could find among moving to Manehatten. You moved to Manehatten to get away from school. Moreso, to get away from what happened…”

“Did you bring your own noose to this funeral?” OddLuck could almost feel her teeth cracking, but the fumes blowing through her ears canceled out the pain she felt in her jaw.

Alias’s smirk widened. “I think it’s time you learned, Clover. Your existence is worthless, but with my help it can be something greater. Stand on the mighty pedestal of the gods and know the story of the world. Come with me, so I can unveil the truth to you.”

The darkness of Nowhere seeped away, the Multiverse Cluster becoming a pinprick as it shrank in size. They were back on the white marble floors of Alias’s Library, bookshelves extending high into the cloudy mist above them.

All this happened before OddLuck could register what was going on. When Alias showed her the Multiverse Cluster, she had first introduced herself to OddLuck then told her to follow. A path opened up between one of the bookshelves—almost like one would pull a specific book off the shelf in a crime novel and a secret entrance would open up.

Now, out of sheer force of will, here they were. Surroundings changed in the blink of an eye. OddLuck was mystified, to say the least. “How… how…” she was saying. Then she kicked herself and tried to remember that this was all a dream, a dream that would be over very soon.

They stood in front of the dais supporting the Book of (Possible) Prophecies. There could have been some mechanism in the floor, because as Alias was walking up to it, the platform was lowering down, becoming even with the marble.

Is she really doing all of this with her mind? OddLuck thought. But it was a silly idea—that’s right, silly. It had to be fake. I wonder what she has to say.

By the time Alias reached the podium, it was already at ground level. The book levitated in the air over her head, emanating a golden glow. If OddLuck thought it was large before, it was now gargantuan. It was the size of a small house, and when it opened it became the length of a small house.

There was a colored illustration, spanning both of the pages. It was of her behind the counter at Frostysplit Cavern, a miserable look on her face. She remembered that moment: it was her second week on the job. P. Gander had greeted her with warmth and kindness at first, but on that particular Monday he yelled at her for showing up ten minutes late—saying a few rude things in the process. That was the start of the downward spiral.

One question, however, popped up in her mind. She spoke it: “Why is there a picture of me in this book?”

“Because you’re a prophet, of course!” Alias said ecstatically.

OddLuck tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“Whenever a prophecy appears in the Book of Possible Prophecies, there’s a fifty-fifty chance of the prophecy really occurring. Hence, Possible Prophecies. The prophecy is confirmed when an illustration appears detailing the event or prophet. For example: one such prophet is Grendar the Unbright, otherwise known as Grendar the Gender Confused, otherwise known as Grenda to her—he—it? Friends. When she was born, her entire family was slaughtered. Her mother, cloaked in blood from oozing wounds and desperate to save the last of her kinship, rushed the young warrior to the Pool of Nature’s Tears—where she dipped her in by the ankle. Mother Nature took pity, thus granted the warrior impunity. But since Grenda was dipped in by the ankle, it was known to be her one weakness. This could have been easily avoidable if she just wore a boot, but she considered those tacky and had a strange obsession with high heels. When asked why she prefered to wear such accessories into battle, she responded with, ‘Shut the fuck up Linda, these shoes are three hundred shinkles, and it’s a fashion statement.’ Thus the prophet’s life ended before the Book of Possible Prophecies could surface her. Strange Clover, I am proud to say that you’ve been subjected to the greatest prophecy to unravel since the birth of Bobby and Ragnor!”

“None of this is making any sense...” OddLuck said, more to herself than to the mythical creature in front of her. However, Alias didn’t seem to notice.

“Then I have all the answers for you. Ask me any question, and I’ll tell you the answer!”

OddLuck thought for a moment. She could ask many things, such as what the Divine Epidemic was, or who were Bobby and Ragnor. She could ask why the Book of (Possible) Prophecies had to be so elaborate. Instead, she had a test question.

“Are there any other prophets?”

“Many!” Alias said immediately, excitement glimmering in her eyes. “There’s Bobby and Ragnor, of course! Their prophecies were unraveled almost simultaneously.”

The book flipped to another page, revealing another illustration. This time it was of the blue minotaur OddLuck saw before, brandishing a flaming axe and flying toward a hydra, the teeth from one of its numerous heads exposed and agape.

“The story of Bobby the Brave started as a traditional tale. The gods were in need of a warrior to do their biddings. Before we gifted him with such awe-striking powers, Bobby went by another name: Bobby the Frail, as his village called him. He was known for being born all skin and bones. Why, when he was fully grown his father mistook him for a deer at one point.

“We the gods were fed up with the warriors at the time. They were all buff and knew how to get along with the ladies. We wanted excitement. I can even recall this one showoff who murdered my pet lion long ago and wore its skin. So, we gifted Bobby with an axe of awesome power: to which he dubbed it the Flaming Axe of Awesome—trademarked.”

“How… did he trademark it? Why did it matter that he trademarked it?”

“Don’t tell me you aren’t familiar with copyright laws! If the gods didn’t copyright the Flaming Axe of Awesome—trademarked—there would be another Flaming Axe of Awesome—trademarked. And soon there would have been would be heros running around with their own self-proclaimed flaming waraxes!”

“Wouldn’t the copyright be expired by now? How far back do copyright laws extend?”

“Do you have any other questions are within legal jurisdiction?”

OddLuck rolled her eyes. “Who’s this Ragnor?”

Alias’s face morphed into one of contempt. The book flipped to another page, an illustration of the trauma-inducing minotaur appearing, thin tendrils of darkfire protruding from all around him, furcating and dancing in the air amidst a burning forest.

“One of the more… disappointing prophets. Also known as Bobby’s brother. The story of Ragnor is a traditional fall from grace tale. In the beginning, he was loved by everyone. He was the strongest warrior in the village. Once he fended off a liege of feather-headed gurglepuffs with one arm tied behind his back—his knot-tying skills weren’t as great as his willpower—and became a representation of his culture.

“Then, we gifted Bobby with his axe. At first, no one knew what to think. The village runt suddenly had amazing powers. Not thinking, they continued to disown him—but Bobby maintained a strong mentality and treated his fellow minotaurs with kindness. Then came the day that let him shine: he fought a colossal feather-headed gurglepuff—which is much more intimidating than the traditional feather-headed gurglepuff and much more fearsome than the fang-toothed feather-headed gurglepuff. However, not quite as common as the gurgle.

“Bobby’s village rejoiced in the newly-found warrior’s talents. Thus, he not only became well-respected by his fellow villagers, but he overshadowed his brother in the process. Ragnor became jealous.

“The gods saw the hatred in Ragnor and wanted nothing to do with him. But one saw the potential: Malum, the God of Evil. With great amusement, he bestowed upon Ragnor the sword Pyrinikós. Thus the minotaur became known as the Lord of Corruption.

“Much like Bobby, Ragnor was sent on a quest. But, while Bobby’s quest fulfilled the regimen of strength and willpower, Ragnor’s quest left hatred in the world. Lakes dried up, forests depleted—it was a sight that made Mother Nature herself shed a tear.

“Ragnor believed what he was doing was for the greater good: he wanted to move all those things out of the way to make room for new villages. But the gods became aware of his power.

“At first, they approached with caution. They sent him on a journey across the sea, toward a secluded island. They told him he was destined to fight a horrific beast making plans to attack his home village. When Ragnor saw there was no beast, he realized that the gods had played him. His ship was destroyed by a tidal wave, Ragnor was trapped on the island—or so we had hoped.

“Pulling the forces of the Earth his way, he utilized the power of the gods and learned to walk on water. We the gods could have stopped him, if Mare, Goddess of the Sea, hadn’t banished herself to pick at the polar ice caps to make way for more water.

“Fueled by vengeance by what the gods have done, Ragnor began his quest for hunting down and killing every last one of us. He would not have succeeded if Poştaş, the Prophecy Messenger, hadn’t visited him. Throwing a thorn bush at Poştaş so he couldn’t fly away, Ragnor cut off his head.

“Using the head of Poştaş, he was able to track down every last one of the gods. This is when we made many mistakes. Desperate to be rid of this newfound cancer of the Earth, some of the gods organized parties and attacked Ragnor.

“But there was a hidden ability no one thought he had: he had the ability to steal the power of the gods he had previously slain. Thus, Ragnor had become far more powerful than any of us could foresee.

“He had slain the gods seeking him, and looked around every corner of the Earth for the remaining ones. Very few survived his wrath. This is what became known as the Divine Epidemic.

“Stricken with fear, the remaining gods were forced to go into hiding, less than a dozen left alive. Out of all of them, Mother Nature was the only one to stay and fight.”

Mother Nature; the golden doe walking down a forested path. Her glowing body was like a beacon in the darkness, eliminating all shadows from the illustration.

“You saw the rest of the story. Using the last of her energy and the added power of Chronos’s enchanted helmet, she encased Ragnor in a time capsule of amber resin. Thus, the story of the New Age began.”

Alias, who had been too engrossed with telling the story to remember who she was talking to, turned her attention to the green mare staring with intrigue. “There’s so much more to this story than meets the eye, Clover. It’s what led to the birth of your princesses, it’s also what led your society into a stagnating spiral. Your culture has somehow managed to maintain peace through friendship, but accelerating progression has led it to a state of a desperate attempt to reform. It’s interesting: your world has become so vastly overpopulated the Earth of today can’t seem to focus on one issue at a time.”

“It’s… life,” OddLuck added, many complex thoughts falling over her brain—all of which ended nowhere. (Heh, look at the irony!)

“It’s life after the gods! We died so you could live your life in peace, only for that to come back and punch you in the face. Our disappearance has led to your rude awakening, but now we return. Welcome, Strange Clover, to the rebirthing of your world!”

OddLuck stared at the pages inside of the Book of Possible Prophecies. None of it made any sense, yet so much of it gave her new meaning. She didn’t believe it—she wanted to believe it. Nothing this creature was saying sounded true, yet every bit of it screamed right.

There was only one thing on her mind.

“Rebirthing?”

“No, not in the way you’re thinking. Also, gross.” (Wait, you can read my thoughts? OddLuck said in her mind.) “Yes, yes I can. You should think about your puberty days less. But indeed, our return means the cleansing of the planet. I know what you’re thinking now, and no. The destruction of your world will not be necessary to revive the gods. Rather, we wish to gift those who are eligible for the position with the powers necessary to recreate the world to its former glory. It will take the deconstruction of several homes to replant the Inconclusive Forest to the once glorious state it was in ten thousand years ago, and it will require several political leaders to change the way they rule, but soon enough your world will plunge into a state of peace once more.”

“So… a goddess.”

“Yes, we’ve been over this, yes.”

OddLuck examined the crisp pages of the Book of (Possible) Prophecies. None of this made a lick of sense—that she thought for the umpteenth time and something I hope I don’t have to keep saying in the hopes this mare finally understands. But some of it… spoke true.

It crossed her mind a few times in her life. Were there more god-like beings other than Celestia of the Sun and Luna of the Moon? Discord of Chaos even? When taking into consideration the kind of world she lived in, she thought of it as plausible that a place such as Nowhere could exist (if you can put it that way). So why did she still have doubts? Was it the presence of the very goddess before her that caused her mind to betray her own eyes, or was it a desperate attempt to deny this single obstruction of everything within her familiar realm of logic? In the end, she could only decide: this had to be a dream.

“No!” Alias screamed, catching OddLuck off-guard. Her vibrant ethereal mane ignited into a shower of red sparks, the flowers of flames blossoming all over the library, their pedals licking against her face. Her eyes became orbs, red smokey tendrils flowing into the air above them. Lastly, she had grown in size, almost the size of our hero Bobby the Brave himself.

“After all I’ve said, after all I’ve tried to convince you with, you still deny everything you see before you? Do you think this all a dream? Tell me, Strange Clover, have you sat in the abyss of darkness for ten thousand straight years with nothing but a cantankerous old reaper and a flying pasta bowl to keep you company?”

The balefire had grown towards the clouds, enrapturing the two in walls of heat. Despite the muggy air, OddLuck found herself shivering. “I-I…” she tried to push out. “I don’t know what you want from me!” With that, she fell onto the ground, cowering before the power of the ethereal beast.

Like the sun would fade out, so did the flames extinguish. Alias had shrunk down to her normal size. Her mane and eyes were back to normal; a somber look spread across her face.

“I’m sorry, OddLuck.” she said, the thickest syrup of sympathy in her voice. “It’s been forever since I’ve spoken to another being. I don’t know what came over me.”

The threat was out of existence, but OddLuck was still shivering. “Wh-what are you?”

The powerful being looked down at the cowering pony, a tinge of sadness in her eyes. With the swiftest whisper, she said, “A lost cause…”

Silence permeated the library for nearly a placebo century.

Finally, when the hundredth year had passed over, Alias took her gaze away from the ground and gently placed a claw on OddLuck. “You’re important to the story. It’s not my place to force you, but it is my job to guide you.”

“Wa-what do you want me to do?” Her teeth were chattering, but she slowly began standing back up.

“The Book of Possible Prophecies foretells the story of a mare traveling into the Inconclusive Forest to free the minotaur Bobby the Brave, so that he may defeat his brother Ragnor in mortal combat.”

“What is the Inconclusive Forest?” Her jaw was quivering, but her teeth stopped chattering.

“The forest of the world. Or at least use to be. You can find it southeast of the Equestrian border.”

“The Inconclusive Forest... “ OddLuck let it roll off her tongue. “Southeast of the border… I remember learning about a forest like that in high school. Isn’t that supposed to be the world’s largest forest?”

“It’s not only the world’s largest forest, Clover, but it is the origin of all life! It’s where Mother Nature first planted her seeds. It’s where the first signs of color showed. It’s where the Creator himself first touched down when the planet was nothing but a barren rock.”

“It’s where Bobby fought Ragnor…” OddLuck finished. Alias looked down at her with an approving nod.

“I see I’m finally getting through to you.”

“Not quite… I’m still convinced this is all a dream. But if it is, it’s an interesting dream I’d like to explore more.”

“Well, there’s not much left that I can say to you.”

OddLuck raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve told you everything necessary. I have told you about the gods and spoken the prophecy for you. You will travel into the Inconclusive Forest and free Bobby from his prison so that he may fight his brother. You will be serving a great cause. You will be known as the greatest prophet in the history of your world: aiding the hero while the Earth is on the brink of destruction. Do this, and the reward will be... godly, I assure you.”

OddLuck stared back at the Book. Whether or not this was a dream, could it be the sense of adventure she longed for in her life? Since she started working at Frostysplit Cavern—no, before that even—her train of thought has been spiraling out of control with everything going on. Could a simple walking through nature give her a chance to clear her mind and think straight for a change?

The answer is yes. OddLuck thought. You want this. You want this to happen. You want the experience. You want an interesting life—one without the turmoil of going through everyday. You want to find happiness. You want to have that feeling you had around him again. Do this OddLuck, you will be happy that you did it.

“Is that a yes I hear?”

OddLuck was yanked out of her thoughts, overcome with a sense of minor frustration. “Quit reading my mind!”

Alias reeled her head back and laughed. “Oh, Clover…” she said. “Well, I’ll give you time to make up your mind. Until then, I have a gift for you.”

Out of thin air a box appeared between them, an audible crack! snapping through the library. Much like everything else, the box was exceptionally well-crafted. With freshly carved wood dark as walnut and gold running along the edges, it was indeed a box. However, much like many boxes, this one had something inside of it. Revolutionary!

The top flipped open and a jolt of awe ran down OddLuck’s spine. Inside the box, was possibly the most well-crafted crystal she had ever seen. Glowing bright crimson, it must have been half a foot long. Its tip was sharp, almost knife-like, and the top of it was wrapped in a thin gold casing resembling flames.

“This necklace,” Alias said. “Was specially crafted by me, for you. It will help on your journey.”

“What does it do?”

Alias snapped the box shut. OddLuck’s face dropped in disappointment. “That is something for you to learn in a later chapter of your life, Strange Clover.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

“When the gods were first created, a very specific list of rules was created to infer the gods had proper ruling over their creation. One such law that applies to this case is, ‘If thou bestows upon prophets an enchanted gift to aid them in their journey, thou shalt not specify its use.’ Besides, I’ve already told you the world. It only makes sense that you want to know more, but alas, our time is up. There’s a story that needs to be told.”

“W-what?” OddLuck stuttered. There were many things she wanted to say. Starting with, That’s a dumb rule. She wanted to ask questions that led to more questions. How were you created? What are the High Gods? What created the High Gods? Are there any more cookies?

But Alias only responded to these thoughts with a shake of her head. “It’s the same as the stories that have been told over the centuries: the gods may not directly help you on your journey, but we may provide you the insight to know which roads to take. Do well, Strange Clover, then you may revive the gods and bring peace to your world once more.”

OddLuck’s body vibrated as the floor she was standing on shook. Books were falling out of place, tiles were cracking, shelves fell over each other, and a crimson ethereal mist formed around Alias.

It’s time for you to wake up. A voice screamed in OddLuck’s head. It’s time for you to wake up and start your day.

“Alias, wait!” The otherworldly being didn’t hear the shout over the quaking. Was she even there in that mass cloud of crimson?

A tile fell out beneath her right forehoof, and for a moment, as she peered into Nowhere, she was once again greeted by that existential darkness she came to loath in such short time.

“Get me out of here…” she said. When no one heard her cry, she realized she had to be louder. “Get me out of here!”

Taking her leg out of the hole, she followed the massive cloud when the part of the floor that once held the Book of (Possible) Prophecies completely fell away, enraptured by more darkness.

“Get me out of here!”

A powerful gust of wind reeled the clouds above back, revealing more of the black canvas. Her mane whipped against her face as the crimson mass finally faded. More of the floor around her fell away and she was left standing on a single section floating amidst the clutter of junk floating everywhere.

“Get me out of here right now! I want to wake up!”

Those words were the cutting-ribbon that finally caused the marble beneath her to give away. In that very moment, OddLuck was caught in her own screams as she was enraptured by the semblance of nonexistence.

Small crumbs of quartz followed her down, but she quickly lost sight of them as she was enveloped by more of the darkness. All the while she screamed, screamed, and screamed some more; but the vacuum sucked her vocals dry.

The library became a small dot similar to the galaxies in the Multiverse Cluster. However, it didn’t house that same ominous glow of hope she saw before. One thing set on her mind: terror. Anxiety. The expectation that she would never escape this ninth level of Tartarus.

Get me out of here… she thought. Then desperation took over and she tried yelling it, but her cries were cut off by the silence.

Get me out of here.

An image in her mind appeared.

The University of Friendship’s gymnasium flashed before her. Blanketed by fire, the flames licked the clouds. It was the biggest fire she had ever seen in her life.

“Get me out of here.”

White flower petals flew everywhere, being carried by an unpresent draft. A small drop of blood smacked against one of the petals. This was the first of a long stream to pour over the mass.

The library was now a small spark of glitter in the darkness. Any hope she once held was now far away from her. There is no turning back. A voice told her.

A screeching sound entered her ears. It was incomparable to anything she had heard before. It was like a record scratching, mixed with the sound of a wheel screeching and a mare screaming.

OddLuck walked to the balefire enrapturing the gymnasium. She slowly paced toward the door, ignoring the black canvas below her. Just as she reached the entrance, the double doors blew open with a mighty explosion and something struck her in the head.

When she opened her eyes, she realized she was holding what had hit her: a charred skull. The screeching took over her ears.

She recognized it as her own.

She could no longer think. Every rational part of her being evaporated with that last vision. In that moment, she stopped trying to scream and let the dark ocean take her.

For an entire minute, she felt her body relax. Her eyelids felt heavy. Tiredness took over, and she let herself fall into the haze. She was ready for the sweet embrace of her bed when her back touched against something wet.

She opened them back up to find that she was no longer falling. She was laying in a thin pool of water, its glassy surface unseen through the black canvas surrounding her.

OddLuck stood up, her legs wobbling a bit, afraid she might fall through the water’s surface. Content that she was now safe, she stared back up at the library—wherever it was. Her eyes were met with black on black.

In this moment, OddLuck was caught by the peace of nonexistence. The quiet atmosphere filled her ears. Soon she began walking around, and the soft pat, pat, pat of her hooves landing in the water drowned out any anxiety she had.

For the first time in forever, OddLuck felt a form of semblance in her life. Untraditional as it was, it gave her the chance to think clearly. The gods, what happened, her world, the prophecy. She thought about many things in this brief moment of time, but there’s only so much one could think up in their lifetime.

As she rolled these thoughts over in her mind, a bright glow filled her vision. Sheltering her eyes with a hoof, she could make out the silhouette of a rectangular object standing upright. A door.

As she got a clearer view, so did the light fade down to a dim glow. In front of her stood the large door. Solid gold and made with intricate carvings. The most notable one was an emblem of a flaming axe clashing with a sword in the center. A soft hum emanated from the doorway, the shiny surface greeting her warmly.

Welcome, Strange Clover, to everything your life has built up to. That voice in her head was back. It sounded male. This is something you’re ready for. Step through the doorway, and begin the prophecy. Bathe in the warm tub of faith and start the story.

The door was already open ajar when an even brighter light escaped through the crack. This did nothing to stop OddLuck and her newfound determination. That light was something she wanted—no, needed in her life.

The door opened all the way, and she was engulfed by something completely different. It wasn’t a darkness, no. It was anti-darkness. It was the light of her goal. Its warm rays caressed her body and soul, and as she felt the light rapture her with pureness, she said one last thing:

“Thank you, Alias.”

____________________

The covers danced over OddLuck’s face as she struggled to find the warm greeting of morning light—only to immediately regret it when the sun’s rays filtering in through the window burned her retinas and drove a new nail into her brain. She let out a groan and shoved her head beneath her pillow.

She was about to try and sleep the hangover off, when the alarm on her bedside boomed to life.

Wake up

Time to start your new day

Having it your own special way.

Wake up

Time to start your new day

Your destiny awaits

“Shut up!” she yelled through the groaning.

Wake up

Time to start your new day

Hey Clover your journey awaits

She yanked her head from beneath the pillow and looked at the alarm with widened, shocked eyes.

Tell Alias you’re on your way

Get out of bed and begin the day

Some things are at stake.

OddLuck blinked. Then blinked again. “What?”

Get out of bed you fucking virgin.

____________________

Loosestrife nearly flew off the couch when she heard the crash from OddLuck’s bedroom. She was about to run over to the door and knock, to see if her roommate was alright when the green mare came barging out. Before she could inquire, OddLuck ran into the bathroom and Loosestrife heard the streak of the shower knob turning and the spray letting out of the faucet.

Concerned, she got off the couch, walking up to the bathroom door. As she passed OddLuck’s room, she got a good look at what had been thrown: all over the floor, pieces of her alarm clock laid scattered, a sizable dent in the wall.

Loosestrife turned her attention to the green mare, who was drenching herself. “Are you okay?” she asked.

OddLuck took her attention away from the faucet and stared her roommate in the eyes, realizing she forgot to close the door. After a few seconds of awkward silence, she said, “Yeah, I’m just... hungover. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The shower knob became encapsulated by a green aura and with a smooth turn the spray stopped. She was shivering from the ice-cold water, but at least she was awake now.

OddLuck was about to bring a towel using her magic when she felt a brush against her side. Turning, she saw Loosestrife, offering her the cloth. “Need a prairie oyster?”

OddLuck took the towel and dried herself off, starting with the mane-down. With a smile, she said, “Thank you, Loosey…”

“It’s no problem. I’ll be in the kitchen. Neat necklace, by the way.”

Loosestrife left the bathroom before OddLuck caught on to what she meant. Her brain was on delay due to the headache hammering away, but as soon as she registered what had been said she looked down: yes, there was indeed a necklace. The very same crystal with a bloody hue was dangling from her neck.

It was not a dream.

It was real.

Everything in her life pieced together. So much of it shattered in an instant, but the remnants were glued back together. Despite the painful haze in her brain, her mind was now clear: a goddess had confronted her. A goddess had told her a story. A goddess had told her she is destined to play a role in that story.

For the first time ever, OddLuck was beginning to see the streetlight in her life clearly lighting the way.

This is how it all began. A simple dream in nonexistence. If you have made it this far into the story, I thank you for staying. However, I have to warn you: if at all you were depressed by anything within these first few chapters, I have to ask that you put the story down right now.

This is not your classic fairytale where the characters have happy endings. This is a story about OddLuck; not only her even. It is a story about the many characters OddLuck meets on the way. It is a story about what remains of us gods. It is a story too existential to be enjoyed from a fantastical point of view. So I do not stress this enough: this is a story of reality. This is a story of the characters within that reality.

This is the tale of OddLuck and her friends.